A Mother's Secret
by redrider6612
Summary: Sequel to 'A New Secret' Brennan and Booth try to balance child rearing with career and find it isn't easy.  Some angst, lots of fluff and maybe some smut, though with a baby around, that's never easy.  Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This chapter is based on my experiences with my daughter when she was a baby. She was very ill when she was first born. Thank goodness they figured out what was wrong, did surgery and she's fine now—22 years old and a wonderful young lady. Anyway, just wanted you to know why it might have a ring of authenticity. Sorry its so angsty, but you know me, fluff is never far away. Reviews are really appreciated.**

"A Mother's Secret"

Chapter 1

It was four in the morning and Brennan was getting desperate. Little Russ was fussy and she couldn't seem to figure out why. He woke up screaming at two and she had changed him and tried to breast feed, but for some reason her milk wouldn't come in, so she had to give him formula, which made him even more unhappy. Walking the floor with him on her shoulder, she was trying to hum a song to him, but the tears she was holding back kept choking her. Now and then the screams would subside into sobbing hiccups and his eyes would drift closed and she would think that he was finally asleep, but the minute she tried to put him back in his crib he would wake and the screaming would begin again. The urge to join in was becoming almost impossible to control.

Somehow Booth was sleeping through the whole ordeal, she thought resentfully, then felt guilty for resenting the fact that at least one of them was getting some much needed sleep. She'd only been back at work for four days, and the baby still hadn't gotten used to the new routine. He woke up every night between one and two and wouldn't go back to sleep until nearly dawn and Brennan was almost at the end of her rope. Booth tried to help when the baby's crying woke him, but she always sent him back to bed with assurances that she could handle it, she was used to sleep-deprivation and he needed his sleep. If he argued, she got angry and practically threw him out of the nursery.

She sat down in the rocking chair, hoping the soothing motion of the rocker might calm her fractious son. Looking down at his red face as he continued to cry, she finally couldn't hold back any more. Bending her head over him, the sobs crawled up her throat and the tears started pouring down her face, wetting the blanket he was wrapped in. And that's how Booth found her.

"Hey," he said gently, crouching down beside the rocker. "Honey, why didn't you come get me?" he asked, alarmed at the deep sobs that were sending tremors through her body.

"Y-you n-needed s-sleep," she managed to say, shaking her head as he firmly took the crying baby from her arms.

The baby suddenly stopped crying as he noticed who was holding him. Booth smiled down at his son, then looked at his wife with concern. "You need sleep too, babe. You have to let me help," he said softly, shifting from foot to foot and smiling down at his son as the baby's eyes mercifully drifted shut.

Brennan's sobs were subsiding as the blessed quiet brought her relief. "I'm his mother," she said stubbornly. "I should know how to make him stop crying," she said with a hiccupping sob on the last word.

"Honey, he's my son too," Booth said in a level, quiet voice, when he really wanted to grab her and shake her and shout at her. "I want to help. You don't have to do it alone." Turning, he gently laid the baby in the crib and covered him. Thankfully the baby gave a little sigh and settled down to sleep. Booth turned out the lamp, leaving the Pooh nightlight on, then went and pulled her from the rocker and out of the room. He held his peace until they were in their bedroom with the door shut and he had turned the baby monitor back on. Then he turned on her with barely contained fury.

"Stop trying to do it all alone, Bones," he said in a low voice. "Stop trying to shut me out."

Brennan stiffened her spine, resisting the overwhelming urge to collapse on the bed and curl into a ball. "I'm not," she denied hotly. "I'm his mother—"

"And I'm his father," he interrupted with a growl of frustration. "Be reasonable. Wearing yourself out won't do any of us any good. You have to let me help or you're gonna make yourself sick. I mean, I realize I can't help with the feeding—"

"My milk's gone," she cut in sadly, feeling like a complete failure as a mother. Tears starting slipping down her cheeks again.

Suddenly his anger and frustration were gone. He stepped close to her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms soothingly. "You're just stressed, babe. I'm sure it'll come back once you calm down and get some rest."

She gave a shuddering sigh and looked up at him sadly, her eyes swimming with tears. "No," she whispered. "It's gone. I've had less and less to give him every day, and just now when I tried, it wouldn't come at all." She hated the whining note in her voice, but was too tired to do anything about it.

He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her close and rocking a little just as he had done while holding their son. "Shhh, it's okay, honey," he whispered, a lump forming in his throat as she gave another sigh and relaxed against him, to tired to fight him any more. He felt her tears wet his chest. "Let's lie down," he urged gently, and lay down on the bed, cradling her close. Her shudders gradually came less frequently and her breathing became even and he thought she was asleep until she spoke in a more or less normal voice.

"Booth?" she asked. He grunted a reply and he felt her take a deep breath. "Are you sorry?" His heart clenched at the smallness of her voice. He didn't need to ask her to elaborate.

"Of course not, baby. Now go to sleep," he ordered softly. With another soft sigh, she drifted off, safe in his arms. Booth lay awake for a long time, worrying about her. His strong, capable partner hadn't been herself since returning to work, and he decided it was time to do something about it. He wondered how much of a fight she was going to give him. Not that it mattered, he could out-stubborn her when he needed to. That settled, he relaxed and slipped into a deep sleep. He'd need it for the battle ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The routine they had established worked well and Booth was especially glad that he would be last to leave this morning. Brennan kissed him and the baby goodbye, leaving for the lab by six fifteen. Booth was ready to go by seven, when Rachel, their nanny, arrived.

Opening the door, Booth smiled. "Morning, Rachel," he said, taking her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.

Rachel smiled, dropping her tote by the door. "Good morning, Mr. Seeley," she said brightly. He had given up trying to get her to call him Booth. He'd never seen her tired or in anything less than the chipper mood she was in now. It had irritated him at first, but he was used to it now. She bustled over to where Russ was bouncing his foot in his baby seat. Bending over him, she greeted him warmly and the baby responded with a huge smile. She picked him up, talking to him sweetly.

Booth came up beside her and smiled down at his son. The baby waved a fist at him. "We had another rough night." She glanced up at his serious tone, eyebrows raised. "He kept my wife up half the night."

Rachel sighed and looked back down at the baby. "I'm sorry to hear that. He seems fine now. Was there anything wrong? Did he seem to be in some kind of pain?"

Booth shook his head. "I don't know, he just wouldn't stop crying no matter what she did," he said helplessly.

She started bouncing the baby a little. "Sounds like a touch of colic. Maybe I should take him to the pediatrician."

Booth smiled gratefully. "That would be great," he said, thinking again how lucky they were to have found her. "Call me after you see him. I wanna know what he says." Bending to kiss his son, he picked up his suit jacket and grabbed his cell and keys. "Talk to you later," he called, and then he was gone. He had a doctor's appointment of his own to make. And a stubborn partner to drag to it.

BBBBBBB

Brennan was examining the remains of a man that had been murdered and set on fire in a federal park. The body had come in late yesterday and she'd only had time for a cursory preliminary examination before she had to leave for the day. Before the baby she would have stayed late to complete a proper examination, but since returning to work she never stayed past five thirty. There was an invisible tether pulling her home and she felt guilty for the irresistible impulse to be with her son. At the same time she felt guilty for the hours she spent at the lab, away from him. Cutting her hours at the lab hadn't been a conscious decision, it had been imperative.

The card reader beeped and Booth strode onto the platform. "So, what do we have?" he asked predictably. Brennan glanced up at him, but looked back down before replying.

"The victim is Caucasian, in his fifties, five ten to six one. They broke his neck, then set him on fire," she replied in a clinical tone. She straightened and looked at Hodgins. "Do you know what was used as an accelerant?"

"Alcohol," Hodgins replied. "And I don't mean rubbing, probably whiskey, since we found shards of a whiskey bottle."

"Brilliant observation, Hodgins," Booth said sarcastically. "Do we know who he is yet?"

Angela spoke from her station. "Not yet. Since the guy had no teeth, we can't—"

"Wait—no teeth?" Booth interrupted. "You mean he had dentures?"

Zach spoke from his position beside Brennan. "If he had dentures, he wasn't wearing them."

Booth frowned. "Why would someone go around without their dentures?"

Brennan shrugged. "Speculation is your area of expertise. All we know is, they weren't in his mouth, nor were they found anywhere on his body or at the scene. Zach will clean the bones this afternoon and apply the tissue markers, so Angela should have a facial reconstruction done by Monday or Tuesday."

Angela sighed from her seat at her station. "It isn't going to be easy without the teeth," she said dubiously.

Booth glanced at his watch. Time to go or they'd be late. "Okay, great. C'mon, Bones. I'm taking you out for lunch," he said bossily, motioning at her to come along.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "It's too early and I'm not done here—"

"Zach can finish, you and I have an appointment," Booth said firmly, grabbing her arm and starting to pull her along.

She groaned in frustration. "What's with you? You think I can just drop everything and go every time you show up?" She planted her feet, folded her arms and glared up at him mutinously.

The squints watched the power struggle with amusement. Some things hadn't changed in spite of the fact that they were married.

Booth decided to try another tactic. "C'mon, Bones. I don't wanna be late. I promise I'll bring you right back after lunch," he said with a smile guaranteed to disarm her. She sighed and relaxed her stance somewhat. Score one for the FBI guy.

"Fine. Zach, make sure you examine the clothing thoroughly before removing them. I expect a full report when I return," she warned, pulling off her gloves and following a triumphant Booth off the platform. In her office, she shrugged out of her lab coat and grabbed her coat and bag.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she pulled on her coat. Booth was fidgeting by the door, jingling his change in his pockets, anxious to get going.

"You'll see," he said mysteriously.

Brennan rolled her eyes and sighed, but decided to let him have his fun. Evidently he had a surprise for her. She hoped it wouldn't take too long. She had a lot of work to do.

The drive was quiet until Brennan recognized the building they'd parked in front of. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. "This is your surprise? Dragging me to see my OB?" she asked incredulously.

Booth shut off the car and turned to her. "Yeah, you have an appointment to see your doctor. I'm hoping he can help you—"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" she growled, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

Booth leaned towards her. "Really? So, it's normal for you to cry at the drop of a hat? To snap at people? Walk around like a zombie half the time?" he asked bluntly.

She pursed her lips. "I'm getting, at best, four or five hours of sleep a night," she pointed out. "Sorry if I'm not my usual bubbly self."

Booth reached out and touched her cheek, in spite of the fact that her posture screamed 'don't touch me'. "Hey, I know it's been rough. I just want to make sure there's no medical reason for the way you're feeling," he said gently.

Brennan fought the urge to cry. Crying never solved anything. But if he didn't stop looking at her with warm concern in his eyes, she was going to lose what little control she had. Grabbing her purse, she got out of the car and headed for the building, leaving him to get out, lock the vehicle and jog to catch up. She threw an irritated glance over her shoulder.

"You don't need to come along," she groused. "I'm going, okay?"

"I wanna be there," he insisted. "I cleared my schedule so I could be, I'm here, so I might as well stay and hear what the doctor has to say."

She pushed down her irritation. And he thought SHE was stubborn.

Dr. Walsh did a thorough examination, then called Booth in after Brennan had gotten dressed. His manner suggested there was nothing to worry about. Booth sat next to Brennan and took her hand.

"You have postpartum depression," the doctor said. Booth frowned but Brennan didn't look surprised.

"What's the treatment?" Booth asked. At least they knew what it was and they could treat it and everything would be okay.

"I'm going to prescribe an anti-depressant and I want Dr. Brennan to get more rest. And try to reduce stress," Dr. Walsh said, as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

Brennan snorted and Booth spoke to forestall the sarcastic reply he knew was on the tip of her tongue. "Why did her milk dry up? Will it come back?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid not. The stress was most likely the main cause. It's not uncommon," he said reassuringly as he noticed the guilty look on Brennan's face. "Don't worry, the baby will do fine on formula." He looked from her to Booth and back again. "I'd like you to get counseling," he said firmly.

"No! I don't need a therapist—" she protested.

"Then join a support group," he countered. "I'll have my nurse give you a list of therapists and support groups." He paused at her stubborn look. "There is no need to be ashamed, Dr. Brennan. Sometimes it takes awhile for a woman's body to restore hormonal balance after giving birth. It's not your fault," he said kindly.

She had her doubts about that, but she didn't want to prolong the visit with a pointless argument. She stood. "Well, if that's all, I need to get back to work. Thank you, Dr. Walsh."

Booth stood and shook hands with the doctor as Brennan swept out of the room and down the hall. "I'll see that she gets more rest, doc. Thanks for seeing her on such short notice."

"Be patient with her, Mr. Booth," the doctor said softly. "She's under tremendous pressure, most of which she is putting on herself. Help her as much as you can and be there for her when she needs emotional support. She's her own worst enemy, pushing herself far too hard."

"I know. But she did that before she ever got pregnant," Booth said wryly, turning to follow his partner, who was waiting impatiently at the front desk.


	3. Chapter 3

A Mother's Secret

Chapter 3

Booth's cell rang while they were at lunch. He frowned when he saw that it was Rachel.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Seeley, it's Rachel," she said breathlessly. Booth was alarmed. Why was she out of breath? Brennan straightened at the look on his face. "We just left the pediatrician," Rachel went on. "He's changing the baby to a soy based formula; he thinks that may be the source of his problem."

Booth closed his eyes and sighed with relief and his heart rate returned to normal. "Thanks, Rachel. Would you please pick some up and we'll reimburse you?" He ended the call and smiled over at his partner, relaying the news.

Hope lit her features and she smiled too. "Oh, that's the best news I've had all day," she said, thinking she might actually manage a bit more sleep tonight. Booth reached over and squeezed her hand. He was thinking if she got more sleep, maybe they could resume their intimate relationship. It had been a long time.

BBBBBBBB

The baby was finally asleep and they had two blessed hours to relax together before bed. The TV was on low, but only Booth was watching. Brennan lay with her head in his lap, drowsing off and on while his hand stroked her silky hair. Booth looked down to find her watching him.

"What?" he asked with a half smile.

Brennan smiled too. "Nothing. Just…looking," she said.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, wiping at his mouth and looking at his hand.

She chuckled at him. "Noooo…can't I just look at you without you getting paranoid?" she teased.

"Can't take your eyes off me, huh?" he said smugly.

"Actually, you need to blow your nose," she said, "you have—" She couldn't keep a straight face as he sat up and reached for a tissue off the end table. "I'm kidding!" she chuckled, which turned to laughter when he started tickling her.

"Ssssshh!" he hissed as her laughter rang out. "You're gonna wake Russ!"

She subsided into chuckles. "It was your fault. If you hadn't tickled me…" She trailed off at the tender look on his face. Reaching up and hooking her hand around his neck, she pulled him down for a deep kiss, deeper than any they had shared in a long time. His heart sped up as her tongue swept his and he groaned as she shifted higher in his lap. Her hands slipped under his shirt, sliding over his taut stomach to stroke his chest. When her open mouth trailed to his neck he suddenly decided it was time for bed.

"Bones," he rasped, trying to still her hands. If she didn't stop, they weren't going to make it to the bedroom. He wanted it to be right, and that didn't mean making out with her on the couch.

She growled with frustration, thinking he was trying to stop altogether. She looked up at him with a frown. He would have found it cute if he wasn't so aroused. He pushed her upright and stood, pulling her along toward the bedroom.

Once they were there, they shed their clothes as though in some kind of bizarre stripping contest. But when they were finally lying together skin to skin, things slowed down. His hand stroked her hip, then moved up her ribs to cup her breast. She sighed as sensations raced along her nerve endings and she shifted to press herself closer. Her hands ran over his well-defined chest, lingering there to marvel at how well he was made. They moved on to his shoulders, equally well-muscled and thrilling, then down his back to settle on his buttocks. Almost purring with pleasure, she squeezed and he stiffened, nearly losing control right then and there. He rolled to his back, pulling her to lie on top of him.

He saw her smile in the near darkness. "Careful, Bones, or this is going to be over before it's begun," he warned softly.

"Don't call me Bones," she warned in a mock severe tone, sliding her leg over his hip and joining them slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Booth's breath hitched as her muscles contracted around him.

"Temperance…" he groaned, grasping her hips to pull her in tighter. He froze at her gasp. He'd forgotten that she might not be able to take it this soon. She'd only given birth nine weeks ago. "I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to withdraw, but she wasn't about to allow that. They had waited long enough.

"It's okay," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly as she started to move. His hands moved from her hips, smoothing over the soft skin of her back. Soon thoughts ceased altogether as they moved as one, striving for the bliss that awaited them.

Afterward they lay entwined, the sweat slowly drying from their bodies. Booth was idly stroking her hip. "Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied softly. "I just—its been so long. It took me a minute…" she said.

"I'm sorry, I should have let you control how fast…how deep—" he began, feeling guilty for causing her any pain.

She leaned up on an elbow to look down at him in the dark, placing a finger over his lips. "Sssshhh, I told you, I'm fine. It didn't hurt, it was more of a stretching feeling…" she said, breaking off as the right words to describe the sensation failed her. He touched her face and she could see that he was frowning. She reached up to stroke away the frown.

"I never want to hurt you," he said hoarsely.

"You didn't, Booth. Really, I'm fine. We may have to wait a day or two before the next time…" she said, only half teasing.

He smiled with relief and she dropped a kiss on his lips, then lay back down, snuggling up to him with a sigh. Moments later her breathing had slowed and he knew she was asleep. Closing his eyes, he drifted off too, glad she hadn't noticed that he'd moved the baby monitor to his side of the bed. There was no way he was going to let her get up to feed the baby when the time came.

BBBBBB

She woke, disoriented for a moment. Stretching out her hand and finding him gone, she sat up and threw the covers off. Pulling on her robe, she hurried to the nursery.

He was there, holding their son as he sat in the rocker. The baby was contentedly sucking at a bottle, on hand clutching his daddy's index finger. Booth looked up with a smile. "Hey," he said. "We're almost done here."

Brennan folded her empty arms, but couldn't find the energy to get angry. "You moved the monitor," she accused softly.

"Guilty," he said wryly. He noticed her stance. She didn't look angry, but she wasn't pleased either. "You needed your sleep, honey. We did just fine, didn't we buddy?" he murmured, looking down at his son, who wore an expression of intense concentration.

Brennan's heart swelled with love for both of her men. Moving to kneel in front of her husband, she touched the baby's head and looked up at him. "Thank you."

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Don't mention it. Now, why don't you go back to bed? I'll be along as soon as I get this little rugrat tucked in."

She nodded and stood, turning to look at them from the doorway. "You really are a wonderful father, Booth," she whispered with a smile. The grin he gave her followed her back to bed and warmed her until he returned and took her into his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Zach, where's that report on the Donnelly case?" Brennan asked in a sharp tone. She was applying tissue markers to a skull from limbo.

Zach looked up from his monitor, exchanging a glance with Hodgins, who rolled his eyes and gave a slight shake of his head. "I thought you needed me to analyze the kerf marks on this John Doe," he asked.

"Ongoing cases take precedence over limbo cases, Zach. I shouldn't have to tell you that," she snapped.

Zach's spine straightened. "You're right, Dr. Brennan. I'm sorry, I'll get on that right away," he said. Angela shot him a sympathetic look.

"Hey, Bren, can I see you in your office?" Angela asked, standing up. She didn't have anything to do until Brennan finished with the tissue markers, but she thought it was time for some intervention. It had been a week since Booth had dragged her off to the doctor. Angela didn't have any personal knowledge of post-partum depression, but she thought they'd see some improvement by now. She suspected something else might be going on.

Brennan finally looked up, frowning. "Now? I'm nearly done here, then you can have the skull if you need something to do. This is not the appropriate time for girl talk."

Angela rolled her eyes and sighed. "You wanna discuss this in front of the guys? Fine. Is the medication you're taking having any affect on your post-partum—" she began.

"No! Okay!" Brennan shouted. Straightening and putting the skull down, she marched off the platform, leaving Angela to follow.

"Good luck," Hodgins muttered, returning to the particulates he was processing.

Angela shut the door behind her and stood watching her friend. Brennan was behind her desk, tidying an already tidy pile of folders. Angela stepped closer and made an 'ahem' sound. Brennan looked up at her with a frown. "I'm taking the damned medication, okay?" she said grumpily.

Angela folded her arms and cocked a hip. "Maybe the dosage needs to be adjusted. Have you called the doctor?"

"No, there's no point," Brennan said, then sighed. "Look, Russ is sick and I really need to finish up here so I can get home to him—"

Comprehension dawned on Angela's face. "So, that's what's wrong," she said.

Brennan looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"Sweetie, you're feeling torn. Every working mother goes through it. Your baby needs you, especially when he's sick, but you also need to be at work."

Brennan sighed and dropped into her chair. "He was screaming for me when I left," she said hoarsely. "Leaving him this morning was really hard. Rachel is the best, but when he's sick, he only wants me. What kind of mother leaves her baby when he needs her?"

Angela came around the desk and perched on the edge near her friend. "A mother that has other responsibilities." She watched Brennan as she stared blindly at her blotter. "Sweetie, don't worry, I'm sure he's fine. I'm sure Rachel got him to calm down eventually—"

"I should be the one calming him down, Ange!" Brennan cut in, angry at herself. "I should be there to comfort him when he's sick."

"So, you wanna quit? Take a leave of absence? Cut your hours? What do you want to do?" Angela asked, desperately trying to help her friend find a way to deal.

Brennan blinked her tears away. "I don't know," she whispered miserably.

Angela touched her hand. "Have you talked to Booth about it?" she asked gently.

"What good is that going to do?"

"Sweetie, I realize you're new to the marriage thing, for that matter I don't think you've had much experience with committed relationships, but the beauty of being with someone is being able to share your troubles with them. If you can't talk to him about what's bothering you, I don't think there's much hope it's gonna last."

Brennan sniffed and dashed away the pair of tears that had rolled down her cheeks. Angela was right. Talking to Booth was the first thing she should have done. She still wasn't used to depending on someone else. "Okay, I'll talk to him."

Angela smiled, relieved. "Good. Who knows, maybe he'll have a solution you haven't thought of."

Brennan smiled too. "Maybe. There's only one way to find out," she said, feeling better already.

BBBBBBBBB

For the first time since returning to work, Brennan beat Booth home. Rachel had told her everything was going well every time she had called to check, but it just wasn't the same. She had left the lab at four thirty, anxious to see for herself that Russ was fine.

Dropping her bag and coat inside the door, she hurried to the nursery. Rachel looked up from the changing table where she was buttoning Russ' sleeper. "Hi. Great timing, he just had a bath and a bottle. His temp is back down to 99 degrees, so I think we're on the downside."

Brennan reached for him as Rachel picked him up. He was smiling at the nanny, but chortled with glee when he saw his mommy. Brennan smiled at her son, chuckling at the silly smile on his face. Gathering him close, she kissed his sweet-smelling head. Rachel took another swipe at his hair with the brush, but finally gave up. He seemed to have inherited his father's unruly hair. Brennan picked up his tiny hand and he wrapped his fingers around her thumb.

"Thanks for taking such good care of him, Rachel," she said, unconsciously rocking the baby a bit. She chuckled as the baby's free hand latched onto her hair.

Rachel smiled and rescued the lock of hair from the baby's fist. "My pleasure. Even sick, he's the best baby I've ever cared for. Aren't you sweetie?" she asked the baby brightly. "Well, I need to get going. I have a few stops to make on my way home. See ya Monday."

"Okay, thanks again, Rachel." Brennan took the baby swing and set it up in the kitchen so she could make dinner. Russ kept up a steady stream of nonsense chatter, laughing at the toys attached to the crossbar overhead. She turned the radio on low and hummed as she worked, stopping occasionally to talk to the baby.

Booth came home and stopped just inside the doorway. "Hey," he said with a smile.

Brennan turned from the stove. "Hi," she said, putting down the potholder and moving to meet him. She leaned up to kiss him sweetly. "Dinner's ready." Booth hugged her. "Great." He went over to the swing. Russ was waving his arms madly, laughing. "Hey, buddy, how's my little Russ-ter doin'?" he said, picking the baby up and pulling him close to hug him and kiss his forehead. "Fever's down," he noted with relief.

Brennan turned from serving up dinner. "Yeah, Rachel said it's back down near normal." She set the table and Booth put the baby back in the swing where they could watch him.

"How was your day?" she asked to forestall any similar question from him. She wasn't quite ready to talk about her issues. She managed to keep him talking through dinner with a few questions here and there. They were almost done when Russ began to fuss. Booth picked him up as Brennan got up to clear the table. While she cleaned the kitchen, Booth sat down on the couch with his son. He was showing the baby a brightly colored cloth book when she joined them.

"He's a very smart baby," Booth declared. "Look how closely he's paying attention."

She chuckled. "Booth, it's a little early to determine his intelligence. He's only three months old. He's just responding to the bright colors and your tone of voice."

"You hear that, buddy?" Booth said, smiling down at the baby. "Your mommy doesn't think you're smart."

"I didn't say that!" she argued. He looked at her with a glint in his eye and a smile tugged at her lips. "Smartass!" she murmured.

"Ah-ah-ah," he scolded, shaking a finger at her. "Language," he warned teasingly.

"He's three months old. At this stage he isn't able to process and discern language, and he's still months away from being able to form words." She leaned in to kiss the baby, raising her voice a little and smiling at him. "Right now he only understands tonal quality and facial expressions, right sweetie?" Russ grinned at her and grabbed for her earring. Catching his hand, she freed the earring and kissed his fingers.

Booth snorted and rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now you're an expert on early child development?"

She smirked at him. "I googled it. There are some really interesting online articles on the subject."

They played with the baby until he started yawning and scrubbing at his eyes with his chubby little fists. Brennan stood, holding the tired baby close. She leaned down so he could kiss his son.

"Goodnight, buddy. Sleep tight," Booth said, then watched his wife and son head for the nursery. He marveled at the change in his partner. If anyone had told him a year ago that they would be happily married with a beautiful son, he would have thought they were nuts. He never dreamed she'd ever marry him, much less make such a loving mother.

She was back in thirty minutes. She had changed into a pair of burgundy satin pajamas and her hair was in soft waves around her face, and Booth was struck by her beauty all over again. She smiled at the expression of wonder on his face, then, to his disappointment, sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch.

"I need to talk to you," she began.

It took a moment for her words to register, then he straightened, somewhat alarmed by her serious tone. "What is it?"

"Something has been bothering me lately and I don't know what to do and Angela told me I should talk to you, because we're married now and I should get used to asking for your advice—" she said all in a rush, stopping abruptly as she realized she was babbling. Booth was watching her with a frown. "This morning, when Russ wasn't feeling well and was crying for me and I had to go…was very hard," she said tentatively. "But I love my job and I really wanted to go into the lab…but at the same time I couldn't concentrate because I was so upset about leaving him." She stopped again as tears clogged her throat.

Booth leaned forward and took her hand. "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to take a leave of absence?" he asked cautiously, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"I don't know!" she said, frustrated beyond words. After a moment her lips firmed. "No, I can't, I won't—it would be like giving up a part of who I am."

Booth didn't know what to say. "It wouldn't have to be permanent—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Do you think a few months leave will solve the problem? There's always going to be something. When would be a good time to return to work? When he starts kindergarten? High school? College?" she asked, her voice rising as she got more agitated. "This is why I never wanted to have children!" she exclaimed, bouncing up to begin pacing. "I knew the demands of motherhood would intrude on my career, but I never expected to feel this…torn. I want to be with my son, to be there when he cuts his first tooth, says his first word, takes his first step. But what I do at the lab is important. How can I put that on hold so I can raise my son? And then I feel guilty for even thinking that my career is more important than him." She stopped suddenly, her back to him, shoulders rounded in defeat. "I just don't know what to do," she said miserably.

Booth sighed. He had been completely unaware of the struggles that she was going through. He felt guilty for being so oblivious, blithely going about the job of living without considering how she might be adjusting to the role of mother and wife. He got up and approached her carefully. He slid his arms around her waist from behind and cradled her close, dropping a kiss on her head.

"Why don't you talk to Cam. I'm sure you can work out a compromise to temporarily reduce your hours. And I don't see why you can't stay home with Russ when he's sick. Zach has his doctorate, it isn't like they won't have a forensic anthropologist around if you're not there."

She turned in his arms and looked up at him. "I swore I wouldn't cut back my hours after the baby was born," she said stubbornly.

"That was before you fell in love with him," Booth reminded her gently. "You've been trying to do it all, be everything to everyone. This just proves you're human after all."

She took a deep breath and leaned into him. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to cut my hours temporarily. I could keep up via email from home," she said thoughtfully. She was feeling a lot better now. She smiled up at him. "Thanks, Booth," she said.

He smiled too, pulling her closer. "My pleasure," he said huskily, dropping his head to kiss her lingeringly. She moaned a little, winding her arms around his neck. He stroked his hands down her back, kissing his way along her jaw to her ear. "I think it's bedtime," he whispered, sending goosebumps skittering along her skin. She nodded and pulled back, taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This first part is dedicated to all you smutterfluff addicts who complained that I cut off the bedroom scene at the end of the last chapter. Sorry about that, but sheesh, I'm running out of ideas on how to write a fresh love scene. So, without further ado, here is the next chapter at last. Musie has grudgingly returned from her vacation in the Bahamas and I'm bribing her with chocolate so she won't leave me again.**

Chapter 5

Booth was a bit irritated to see that she had moved the baby monitor back to her side of the bed, but when he turned to scold her, he completely forgot what he was going to say. She was slowly unbuttoning her pajama top and his mouth went dry as it slipped off her shoulders and down her arms, landing on the floor with a whisper. The bottoms soon followed and she kicked them aside and stepped up to him, completely naked. Her hands came up under the hem of his T-shirt and he sucked in his breath as she stroked up his taught abdomen to settle on his well-defined pectorals. His mind went completely blank as her fingers found his flat nipples.

Her lips were parted and he bent his head to take them in a tender kiss. She shuddered as his hands framed her face and his tongue began a thorough exploration of the moist depths of her mouth. His fingers threaded up into her hair and she moaned, straining to get closer, frustrated that he hadn't touched her body yet. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to rid himself of his clothes either. Her hands pushed the T-shirt up and roamed the taut skin she could get to, but he wasn't cooperating in her efforts to get it up past his armpits. He kissed his way up her jaw and stopped to nibble her earlobe.

"Easy, baby. We got all night," he promised in a husky whisper that sent goosebumps racing down her arms. She made a small frustrated noise and he relented, pulling the T-shirt off in one smooth move. Her pulse picked up as her hands smoothed over his shoulders and up into his hair, bringing her breasts into contact with his bare chest at last. They both moaned with pleasure at the sensation. His hands made their way from her shoulders and down the silky skin of her back, finally settling on her firm buttocks. He pulled her close so she could feel the bulge of his arousal and her breath hitched. Reaching between them, she started working at the button of his jeans, but gave up a moment later in frustration as her fingers couldn't seem to work right.

Booth chuckled a little. "Slow down, okay? I'm not going anywhere," he murmured as she strained closer to him, almost like she was trying to absorb him into her being. Turning, he eased her down onto the bed, leaning up on an elbow to look at her in the dim light from the hallway. His breath caught as he paused a moment to look down at her in wonder. Her hair was a silky tangle on the pillow, her eyes a brilliant blue as she frowned up at him.

"Booth…?" she whispered, puzzled at his hesitation.

He smiled softly. "You're beautiful," he said, awestruck all over again. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, his thumb stroking the slight dent in her chin. Her eyes flashed with…irritation?

"Not now, Booth. Save the pretty words for later. Right now I need you to love me," she demanded in that smoky voice that could get him hot in a flash. Her arms snaked up around his shoulders, bringing them skin to skin. It wasn't enough and she moaned, pushed beyond the limits of her control. His hand stroked down her hip then slipped between them to the apex of her thighs. She forgot to breathe as his fingers explored the folds of her sex, purposely avoiding the button that was begging for his touch. The torture continued for an agonizingly long moment and she was almost sobbing with need by the time he finally gave her what she was wordlessly begging for with every move of her hips. She bit his shoulder to smother the scream crawling up her throat at the waves of pleasure that crashed over her as he stroked her. Moments later she stiffened as her muscles clenched in an intense orgasm, but he didn't stop, teasing her past her endurance. Her thighs clamped tight at the unbearable sensations that were sending aftershocks rocketing through her.

Suddenly he was gone and her eyes snapped open as he got up. To her relief, he shucked the rest of his clothes and was back before she could frame a protest. He rolled on top of her, propped up on his elbows, smoldering dark eyes holding hers solemnly as he slowly slid into her. She swallowed thickly as tears threatened. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more," he countered huskily, picking up the pace to forestall any argument. The distraction worked as she moved to match his rhythm, striving to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. His face was taut with concentration as he struggled to hold back, waiting for her to come again. When she did, he still held back, continuing to move as her muscles clenched around him over and over. It was almost over, the last shuddering aftershocks receding when he stiffened and gave a deep groan, dropping his forehead to hers as pleasure washed over him in waves.

He was smashing her into the mattress, but she didn't mind. Her hands trailed up and down his back, stroking over his firm buttocks, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finally rolled to his back, pulling her to lie across him. They lay that way for a long time, waiting for their pulses and breathing to return to normal.

The monitor sputtered to life as their son made his displeasure known. Brennan made a move to get up, but Booth held her tight. "No, let me," he urged. He kissed her softly and she nodded, curling up in the warm spot he left as he got up. "Don't wait up," he said as he pulled on a pair of sweats.

She smiled up at him sleepily. "Okay," she murmured, yawning. She was asleep a moment later and Booth chuckled softly, heading for the nursery and a very unhappy little boy.

----------------------------------------BB----------------------------------------

_NINE MONTHS LATER_

Plans were underway for little Russ' first birthday in two weeks. Brennan didn't know what all the fuss was about. He wouldn't understand the meaning behind the party, but Booth insisted on having one. He was taking care of all of the arrangements, right down to purchasing the birthday gift. All the squints were invited and Parker, too of course. She wouldn't have minded so much if they weren't in the middle of an especially grueling double homicide that had her and her team completely baffled.

"Bones," Booth called as he strode through the sliding doors at the lab. Brennan gave him a distracted glance as he swiped his card and bounded up onto the platform. "C'mon, we're going to question Hanson."

She continued examining the remains of Carol Swanson. "Not now, Booth. I'm trying to determine the type of weapon—"

"Can't Zach do that? I want to get there before dark. It's fifty miles outside the city, up in the mountains," Booth explained impatiently.

Brennan frowned at him. "Why do you need me?" she asked, looking back down at the remains. She really didn't have time for a field trip.

"Sometimes you help. You see things that I don't," he coaxed, trying flattery. Her glance told him she saw through the ploy. "Hey, you used to insist on being involved in the field work. Now you don't want to? What could be more important than nailing the bastard who did this?'

Brennan closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine. Zach, would you please take over here?" she asked, pulling off her gloves and unbuttoning her lab coat. She spent a few minutes showing Zach her findings thus far while Booth stood by, practically vibrating with anxiety. Ten minutes later they were on the road.

Robert Hanson lived alone in a tiny ramshackle cabin up in the hills. Booth parked about fifty yards away, just out of sight of the cabin.

"Okay, here's the drill. You stay back," he said firmly, his tone telling her this was not negotiable. "I need to determine that he's unarmed, then you can come in, okay?"

Brennan pursed her lips, biting back the argument that was fighting to be voiced. She nodded once and Booth suddenly leaned forward and kissed her briefly. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "That wasn't very professional," she scolded.

"Well, I guess I need more practice," he quipped with a grin.

Brennan rolled her eyes and chuckled, getting out and closing her car door as quietly as possible. She followed a few paces behind, copying Booth as he approached the cabin at an angle, stopping against the front wall just to the left of the door. He held his gun ready, left arm held out to indicate that she was to stay back. His head jerked as she drew and cocked her own firearm, but he didn't waste his breath going into all the reasons he thought she should put the damn thing away. She could tell by the grim set of his mouth that she'd hear it later.

He knocked. "Robert Hanson? FBI, we have some questions for you," he called out. Silence. "Things will go better for you if you cooperate."

Just as Booth was prepared to bust the door in, it opened slowly. A middle aged man stood in the opening, peering at them blearily. One whiff told Booth the man was drunk.

"Whaddya want?" the man groused. Evidently not a happy drunk. Booth kept his gun trained on him.

"We need you to come with us, Mr. Hanson," Booth said clearly.

"Wha'? Where? I ain't goin' nowhere 'til ya tell me what this is 'bout," Hanson said stubbornly, frowning up at Booth.

"We have reason to believe you may have information relating to the murders of Carol and John Swanson."

Brennan tapped Booth on the shoulder. "I thought we were going to question him here?" she whispered.

"The man's three sheets to the wind, Bones," Booth whispered back. "Even if he can answer our questions, I wouldn't put much faith in the answers. I'll put him in a cell at HQ, let him sober up, then we can question him."

Hanson was watching their exchange, apparently puzzled. "Am I under arrest?" he asked.

Booth gave a half shrug. "Nah, Robert, I wouldn't put it that way. Let's just say we're asking you to do your civic duty. Now, are you willing to come along?"

Hanson belched and Booth had to stop himself from taking a step back as a fresh wave of booze laden breath washed over him. "I guess. You gotta bring me back in time for dinner though. Macy wouldn't like missin' her dinner," Hanson said, shuffling out onto the porch.

"Macy?" Brennan asked as Booth put the cuffs on their suspect.

"Cat," Hanson said, finally getting a good look at her. A smile broke across his unshaven face. "Say, you're pretty," he said, trying to stand taller. She topped him by several inches.

Booth yanked him around by his arm and started pulling him toward their vehicle. "Yeah, real pretty. And mine, so you can just forget it," he muttered as they walked. Hanson kept craning his neck, trying to watch Brennan who was trailing behind them. Her cell had rung and she was trying to hear the caller.

"Rachel?" she said loudly. Static came over the line, blocking out some of the words, but Brennan thought she heard 'Russ', 'emergency' and 'bleeding'. Her heart started slamming. She pulled the phone away from her ear to check the cell reception. One bar. Damn!

"Booth!" she called frantically. Booth paused in the middle of stuffing Hanson into the backseat. Something in her voice had him looking around, searching for an attacker. She came running up. "Get in, hurry, Rachel called, Russ has been hurt!" she said urgently, pulling open the passenger door and jumping in. He ran around the vehicle and jumped in, starting the SUV.

"What did she say?" he asked, his heart racing. If anything had happened to Russ, he didn't know if he could handle it.

She recounted the disjointed call as he whipped the wheel around, peeling out with a spray of gravel. Their suspect fell over in the backseat, unable to brace himself with his hands cuffed behind him. "Hey!" he yelled.

"Shut up!" Booth and Brennan yelled in unison. Booth drove with controlled fury, worry pulsing through him in time with the whoops of the siren. Brennan had her hand braced on the dashboard, eyes focused on the road.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sheesh, people, calm down. You'd think you'd never read a cliffie before! lol**

Chapter 6

Brennan's cell rang as they entered the city limits. It was Angela. "Sweetie, where are you?" her friend asked worriedly.

"We're on our way. Do you know what happened?"

"Rachel called me when she couldn't get through to you. Russ was trying to walk and he fell and cut his eyebrow open on the corner of the coffee table. She's taken him to St. Mary's. I'm almost there now. You know where that is?" Angela asked.

"St. Mary's," Brennan told Booth and he nodded grimly. "Yeah, we'll be there in ten minutes. I've been trying to call Rachel—"

"She had to turn her cell off when she went into the emergency room," Angela explained. "She thinks he's gonna need a couple stitches. She says it looks worse than it is."

Brennan nodded, trying to calm down. "Yeah, facial wounds bleed a lot heavier than wounds anywhere else on the body. I'm sure he'll be fine. We'll see you at the hospital." She shut the phone off and told Booth what Angela said.

"How could Rachel let that happen?" Booth asked. Part of him realized he was being unreasonable, but he was sick with worry for his son. He was so…small and vulnerable and he felt a certain amount of guilt for not being there for him.

Brennan reached out to touch his arm. "Childhood injuries aren't uncommon, Booth. They can happen any time, no matter how vigilant the person caring for them is. I'm sure it's not Rachel's fault." Her clinical side was taking over now that she'd been reassured that her son wasn't seriously injured, but she was still anxious to be with him. An emergency room would be a scary place for a one year old.

"Hey, pretty lady, do ya think ya could take these cuffs off—" Hanson whined.

"Shut up!" the partners shouted simultaneously and he fell silent.

Booth called headquarters and requested that a unit meet them at St. Mary's to take Hanson off their hands. That taken care of, they rushed into the emergency room, met by an anxious Angela.

"Rachel's with him. They wouldn't let me in because I'm not family," she said, twisting her hands together.

"Thanks for coming, Ange," Brennan said as she and Booth approached the registration desk. The large woman behind the desk wasn't impressed with their breathless urgency until Booth flashed his creds. She punched their son's name into the computer and told them what room he was in and they rushed down the hall, leaving Angela to pace the waiting room. Drawn by a baby's screaming, they quickly found the right room.

Four people, one of them Rachel, were struggling to strap little Russ to a papoose board. He was kicking his little legs and waving his arms wildly, all the while screaming.

"Mama! Daddy! Nooooo!" he wailed as tears streamed down his beet red face. Brennan and Booth rushed in, one of them stopping on each side of him. Blood was seeping from the gash in his eyebrow. Pushing their way in, they tried to calm their son.

"It's okay, baby, mama's here," Brennan crooned and stroked his arm. At her touch and the sound of her voice, Russ suddenly stopped his struggles.

"Mama?" he said on a shuddering breath, his brown eyes pleading with her. Her heart caught. She wished she could snatch him up and run, but her logical side told her that wasn't what was best for him.

"Hey, Russ-ter. You gotta let the doctors fix your boo-boo, okay buddy?" Booth said gently. There was a lot of blood. How could one little guy have that much blood? Booth stroked his son's hair, steeling himself against his sobs.

Brennan blinked back tears that she knew would only alarm her son even more. Leaning down, she kissed her son's blood smeared cheek and started singing softly in his ear. He quieted so he could hear her soft voice, snuffles shaking his small frame as her words had the desired affect. Pulling back, she smiled tenderly at him, holding his eyes while Booth helped Rachel and the nurses take advantage of his stillness to secure him to the board.

"That's my brave boy," Brennan whispered, leaning down to kiss his button nose. He was still frowning, but the tears had stopped.

"Mama?" he asked tremulously as all but one nurse left and the doctor started making preparations for the stitches.

"It's okay, baby," she said softly. Booth was standing on the other side of him, holding his son's tiny hand.

Brennan smiled into her son's eyes and gently stroked his cheek tenderly, trying to keep his attention off what the doctor was doing.

"It's okay, sweetie, mommy's here," she assured him softly. She refused to use childish baby words with her son. It was one of things she and Booth disagreed on.

Just then the doctor warned them in soft tones that he needed to clean the wound and administer a local so he could suture it. Brennan and Booth nodded and Booth bent to talk to his son.

"Okay, buddy, be a brave boy now. This is gonna hurt a bit, but not for very long," Booth said in a soothing voice. Russ' lip poked out and it was obvious he was getting wound up for a fresh bout of screams. Brennan tried to head him off.

"Don't worry, Russ. Daddy and I will be right here the whole time," Brennan reassured him softly. The doctor moved in as fresh tears welled up and spilled over and he began to wail again. Working as quickly as possible, the doctor cleaned the wound and gave the local. Once the anesthetic began to do its work, the baby calmed down considerably. Booth kept his eyes locked with his son's, but Brennan watched the doctor's skillful suturing with interest.

The doctor finally straightened and the nurse started unfastening the straps. "Five stitches. He's going to have a scar. You can take him home now. Keep him quiet as possible for the next twenty four hours and keep the area clean and dry. Bring him back in ten days to remove the stitches."

As soon as Russ was free of the straps, Brennan picked him up, clutching him close. He cuddled into her chest, his right thumb firmly planted in his mouth and his eyes beginning to droop now that the excitement was over. Booth moved close, reaching out to stroke his son's back. He was so glad the ordeal was over. His other hand came up to caress her cheek and her eyes met his, her lips firmed against the tears that were just below the surface.

Rachel spoke up. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.

Booth turned to her. "How did it happen?" he asked grimly. Now that it was over and their son was going to be fine, he felt a lot calmer.

"I was sitting on the couch and Russ was walking along, holding onto the coffee table. Suddenly he let go and tried to walk on his own. He nearly made it past the end of the table when he lost his balance and fell. I—I wasn't quick enough to catch him," she finished with a hitch in her voice.

Brennan reached out to squeeze the nanny's arm. "It's okay," she whispered. "These things happen. He's fine now."

Booth took a deep breath. "Don't worry about it, Rachel. No harm done. Look, why don't you take the next couple days off? Bones and I can handle the baby."

Rachel gave a relieved smile. "Thank you, Mr. Seeley." She reached out to gently stroke the baby's head. "I'll see you Monday." And then she was gone.

Brennan held her peace until they were home and Russ was safely tucked away in bed. Booth sensed the anger simmering in her, but he didn't suspect the source until they were finally alone in the living room.

"It's your fault," she said from where she sat curled in the chair.

"My fault?" Booth asked, bewildered.

"If you hadn't dragged me off to Hanson's I would have been able to be there when our son was taken to the emergency room," she said.

"You're the one who is always bugging me to include you in the field work!" he said, struggling to keep his tone reasonable.

"That was before I had a son to worry about!" she countered with barely controlled anger.

"He's my son too!" Booth countered, starting to get angry himself.

"But I'm his mother! I should be there when he gets hurt, to—to comfort him," she ended on a broken whisper and Booth's anger evaporated. He went down on his knees in front of her chair.

"Look at me," he said gently. She complied, lips trembling as she struggled to control her emotions. Booth reached for her hand, stroking her knuckles. "You can't be everywhere at once. Things like this happen sometimes. It isn't a reflection on you as a mother."

She felt guilty suddenly. He was being so sweet and she was being a bitch. She smiled a little. "I know," she sighed. "I'm sorry. It was just so—hard seeing him like that."

Booth leaned forward to kiss her. "It's okay, I understand. I'm just glad he's gonna be fine. Join me on the couch?" he asked invitingly. She nodded and they moved to the couch, cuddling up together.

A long moment later she spoke. "When do you want to interrogate Hanson?"

Booth chuckled as he thought of their inebriated suspect. "Tomorrow's soon enough. Let him cool his heels for tonight, it'll do him good."

Brennan sighed with contentment. "Fine with me. I don't want to move from here for at least an hour," she murmured.

Booth tightened his arm around her. "Me either." The events of the day caught up to them and they soon fell asleep that way.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, peeps. What can't I say, I've had a shortage of inspiration lately. Anyway, I think this story only has another couple chapters. Hope you like this chapter.**

Chapter 7

Little Russ' first birthday party was underway. The birthday boy was strapped into his high chair, a huge grin on his face as Angela and Hodgins sat on either side of him talking to him. Brennan was cutting the cake while Booth scooped ice cream. Cam, Zach and Parker were all seated around the dining room table.

Brennan set a piece of cake in front of her son. "There you go, Russ. Now, use the spoon like I taught you," she urged, putting the spoon into his right fist. He giggled and waved it around, then plunged his left hand into the chocolate cake. He squealed with glee as the frosting squished between his fingers. "Russ!" Brennan scolded, trying not to laugh as the baby smashed frosting and bits of cake into his mouth. Only half of it actually hit the intended target, while the rest was smeared across his cheek. She caught his hand before it made it to his hair.

Angela laughed. "Maybe he's left handed, Bren," she half teased, handing her friend a napkin.

"That's possible," Brennan replied, taking the napkin and cleaning her son's chubby fist. He was starting to fuss as he struggled against her efforts. He was focused on his cake and she was deterring him.

"I don't know why you're bothering with that," Booth said as he continued to serve the cake and ice cream. "He's just gonna do it again. Why don't you just let him enjoy his cake? Great things about kids is they're completely washable."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Sure, you can say that, you're not usually the one who has to do the washing."

"Hey! I gave him a bath just the other night. We had fun, didn't we buddy?" Booth said to his son, taking his own plate and sitting down next to him. Russ chortled and plunged his hand into his cake again.

Brennan sighed and sat down to eat her own cake. "And who had to clean up the bathroom when you two were done having fun? There was more water on the floor than there was in the tub," Brennan mock complained.

"I would have cleaned it up after I got him into his jammies. It's a matter of priorities, Bones," Booth said with a smile. Brennan smiled back at him. It was impossible to resist his charm at times.

"Daddy, was I that messy when I was little?" Parker asked from his seat on Booth's other side. He wore a faintly disgusted look as he watched his brother demolish his cake.

"Sure, bub. Sometimes we had to hose you off outside, you were such a mess," Booth teased.

"Did not! You're makin' that up," Parker said, familiar with his dad's sense of humor.

"Nope. You can ask your mom. I remember one time we had spaghetti and you had sauce smeared everywhere. You were having so much fun, you threw a fit when your mom took the plate away."

Parker grinned, swinging his legs. "I love s'ghetti."

"Your manners have really improved since then," Booth joked, handing him a napkin and motioning at a smear of frosting on his chin. Parker giggled and scrubbed at his face.

The doorbell rang as they finished clearing away the plates. Angela had volunteered to clean up the baby, a task made challenging by the fact that he was struggling and yelling to get down. Booth turned from the sink.

"Right on time," he said mysteriously, a sly smile on his face. Brennan frowned at him as she handed Angela a clean T-shirt for the baby.

"Who is it?" she asked warily. Booth's reply was a soft "you'll see" as he headed for the front door.

"Hey, everybody, come into the living room. I have something to show you," Booth called a moment after the front door closed.

Parker squealed with delight at what his dad had to show them. There, in the middle of the living room, stood an organ grinder with a small, ring-tailed monkey on a leash. The monkey wore red velvet pantaloons and vest, with a tiny pillbox hat on his head. He smiled up at the people crowded around him.

"This is Tony and his friend, Cheche," Booth said in introduction. Tony smiled broadly, revealing a gold cap just left of center. The monkey chattered, obviously enjoying the attention.

"Oh, he's adorable!" Angela crooned, hunkering down and reaching out a hand. The monkey slapped her palm, then held his paw out, palm up. "Awww, look, he wants some money. Hodgie, give me some money," she said, holding her hand up to Hodgins without taking her eyes from the monkey.

Hodgins rolled his eyes and dug in his pocket, handing her a quarter. She threw him a smile and put the coin in the monkey's paw. The tiny creature bowed to her and slipped the quarter into a pocket in his pantaloons, causing a round of laughs.

"I wanna give him a quarter, Daddy!" Parker said, and Booth dutifully handed his son a coin. Parker crouched down and held out the coin, which the monkey took with a bow and quickly put in his pocket. Parker laughed. "Oh, Daddy, I want a monkey. He's just like a tiny man."

"Sorry, bub, I don't think your mom would go for that. But you can ask her."

Brennan bent down so Russ could get a close look at the monkey. The baby smiled. "Baby!" he said, clapping his hands and laughing. The monkey reached out a paw and Russ slapped it, just like his daddy had taught him. The creature frowned at him, evidently disappointed at the lack of a coin, and turned to the next person.

Zach hunkered down, studying the monkey. It cocked its head to the side, returning stare for stare. "How long does it take to train a monkey like this?" he asked curiously.

Tony smiled even broader. "Oh, not long," he said proudly. "My Cheche, he is very smart, I train him in just a year."

Zach held out a fifty cent piece, watching the monkey's behavior closely. "How long have you had him?"

"Five years this April," Tony said.

"He seems to have learned to emulate a lot of human expressions and gestures," Zach observed as the monkey pulled his hat off and affected a pleading expression, trying to get Cam to give him a coin. Cam laughed and handed him a quarter, which he took with a grimace and a bow.

"I play a song now?" Tony asked, still grinning. Everyone agreed that would be great and settled on the couch and chairs. Tony spoke a few words in Italian and the monkey affected a dance pose, much to everyone's amusement. After warming up, Tony started playing and they all laughed with delight as the monkey danced and did flips, making comical faces the whole time.

Suddenly the monkey slipped out of his leash. Sensing freedom, he dashed for the entertainment center, scampering nimbly up to the top. They laughed and clapped uproariously, thinking it was all part of the act, but Brennan could tell by the alarmed look on Tony's face that it wasn't. Cheche sat on the top shelf, well out of reach, and chattered at them. Tony started berating the monkey in Italian, but that only seemed to agitate the creature. It started throwing the knickknacks from the shelf at its handler. Tony ducked as a porcelain dove sailed at his head.

Booth jumped to his feet. "Calm down, Tony," he told the organ grinder quietly. "You're just making it worse. Here let me try." Booth approached the shelving unit cautiously. "Nice monkey, good monkey. Come down from there, Cheche," he crooned. The monkey stopped in the middle of picking up a porcelain robin, cocking his head at Booth. Booth ducked as the robin was launched at his head. "O—kay, that didn't work. What does he like to eat?" he whispered to Tony.

Just then Brennan came back from the kitchen with a bunch of grapes and handed them to Booth. Tony smiled, nodding his approval. Booth held the grapes up and suddenly had the monkey's undivided attention. "See, Cheche. Yummy grapes. But you have to come down to get them."

The monkey seemed to be weighing his desire for the treat against his desire to stay where he was. His stomach apparently won the debate and the monkey climbed down the shelves. Booth handed the grapes to Tony and his pet was soon back on his leash, wolfing down his treat contentedly.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Booth. Cheche, he never do that before," Tony said, upset by his pet's boorish behavior.

"Don't worry about it, Tony. No harm done but a few broken knickknacks," Booth reassured the poor man, showing him to the door. When he returned the party was breaking up and soon they were alone. Booth cleaned up the mess while Brennan bathed their son.

"Why a monkey?" Brennan finally asked him. They had collapsed on the couch and the baby was drowsing between them.

Booth shrugged. "I don't know, I thought everyone would enjoy it. Don't you think they did?" he asked hopefully.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, up until he started throwing things. Next time rent a pony, okay?"

"Fine. I thought it was a hit," he muttered. Brennan chuckled, snuggling up to his side.

"Your heart was in the right place," she murmured, kissing his neck. He shivered a little.

"Make sure you're ready to follow through on anything you start, Mrs. Booth," he said huskily, leaning down to kiss her. They broke apart when Russ shifted and grunted in his sleep.

Brennan kissed her husband near his right ear. "Ready and willing, Mr. Booth," she whispered in that smoky voice he loved. "Put your son to bed and I'll meet you in the bedroom." Booth grinned and watched as she sashayed out of the living room, pausing in the doorway to give him a saucy glance over her shoulder. Booth chuckled and picked up his son, careful not to wake him. He wanted at least an hour of his wife's undivided attention. He needn't have worried. The eventful day had completely worn the little guy out and he slept through the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I am SO sorry! Writer's block is about the most horrible thing to happen a writer. But here is a new chapter at last. Hope you like it!**

**A Mother's Secret**

**Chapter 8**

Booth glanced over at his partner. She was frowning at the dashboard. He didn't need to ask what was bothering her.

"He'll be fine, Bones," he said reassuringly.

She turned the frown on him. "It's his first day of preschool. As his mother, I should be there," she said grimly.

Booth suppressed a sigh. They had already had this discussion—several times. "Rachel will be there. She doesn't have to report for her new job until nine, so she'll stay long enough to make sure he'll be okay."

Brennan sighed. "I know that, I just wish—"

"You trust Rachel, don't you?" he interrupted. The only way to deal with the situation was to use logic.

"Of course I do!" Brennan said, frustrated. "It's not about trust. I just think his mother should be there in this kind of situation. What if he gets frightened?"

"C'mon Bones, he's a very outgoing kid. It's not like this is his first contact with other kids his age. All the play dates Rachel took him to—"

"I know! Booth, I know logically that Russ is going to do just fine. What I'm feeling goes beyond logic." She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked back tears. She knew she had no choice. She was due at court to testify for the prosecution in their latest homicide case. When she had learned the date scheduled for her testimony, she had tried to get the prosecutor to move her testimony to later in the day, but he had insisted she needed to go first. So here she was, on her way to court, when she really wanted to be with her son.

To be absolutely honest, Russ hadn't seemed at all apprehensive this morning when she kissed and hugged him goodbye. In fact, when the hug had gone on a little too long, he had struggled to get away, protesting. He hadn't even looked back at her when Rachel walked him to her car.

Booth reached over and took her hand wordlessly as he continued to drive. She returned the pressure and turned her head to look out the window. It was going to be a long day.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket while she was on the stand, breaking her train of thought and causing her to falter in the middle of a sentence. The prosecutor raised his eyebrows at her. She took a deep breath, marshaled her thoughts and managed to finish the sentence coherently. She glanced at Booth, who was watching from the first row behind the prosecutor's table. Just then his cell must have vibrated, because he took it out and flipped it open, getting up and leaving as quietly as possible.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever it was, it would have to wait. She owed it to the victim to focus on her testimony. She somehow got through the next few minutes, answering all of the questions put to her in a reasonably calm manner. But as the minutes dragged by and Booth didn't return, she began to worry. Maybe Russ had gotten hurt. Or he was crying and they couldn't get him to stop. Her imagination conjured all sorts of horrible scenarios until it took all of her self control not to jump up and bolt from the room. Finally the defense attorney finished and the judge dismissed her and she was able to make her escape.

Booth was sitting on a bench outside the courtroom. "I know, buddy, but you gotta eat lunch—" he was saying.

Brennan stopped in front of him. He gave her a distracted grin, making her feel a little better. He wouldn't do that if Russ was having a serious problem.

"I know what Uncle Jack said, but not every kind of fish has that—" Booth said patiently. He rolled his eyes at Brennan. "Here, why don't you talk to Mommy," he said, then handed her the phone.

"Hi Russ, its Mommy," she said, trying to contain her happiness. He wanted to talk to her!

"Mommy, I don' wanna to eat the yucky fish," he began without preamble. She could hear the stress in his voice.

"But Russ, you love fish sticks," Brennan said, confused.

"No, Mommy," Russ said. "'Cuz o'the acter-ya."

Brennan frowned. "The what?"

Russ' groan of frustration sounded a lot like his daddy's. "The acter-ya. Uncle Jack tol' me fish have acter-ya that makes it glow. I don' wanna glow," he finished on a whine.

Brennan's brow cleared and she stifled a laugh. "That's bacteria, honey. Did Uncle Jack tell you that variety of bacteria is very uncommon?"

There was a long pause. "I don' know what that means," he said on a sigh of frustration.

Brennan smiled. "It's okay to eat the fish, Russ. I'm sure there's no bacteria in it," she managed to say without a trace of laughter.

"How d'ya know?" he asked skeptically. His mommy was very smart, so if she said it was okay, maybe he could eat the fish sticks. He just wanted to be sure.

"I promise, the odds of there being any bacteria in the fish sticks are negligible—er, very slight," she said in her most reassuring tone.

"Well, okay. But if I glow, I'll be mad," he said, still sounding a bit doubtful.

"I'm sure that won't happen. We'll see you later, okay honey?" Brennan said with a smile at Booth. Just taking to her son on the phone had made her feel so much better.

"'Kay, bye," Russ said, and then he was gone. She flipped the phone shut and handed it to Booth.

"He'll be fine," she told Booth, trying to assure herself as much as him, relieved that the crisis hadn't been serious. Still, she found herself looking forward to the end of the day when she could see her son and confirm that he was fine.

She was pacing her office when Booth finally called from in front of the building at five. She had called him three times during the short drive over, asking what was taking so long. An accident had slowed traffic to a crawl. Snatching up her coat and bag, she dashed out of the building.

"You could have used the lights," she said by way of greeting.

Booth pulled away from the curb. "No, I couldn't. The lights and siren are reserved for emergencies. Running late to pick up my kid from preschool doesn't qualify," he said patiently. She rolled her eyes and fastened her seatbelt.

She barely waited for the vehicle to stop rolling in front of the preschool before flinging open the door and dashing to the front doors. The waiting area was deserted.

"Hello?" she called loudly, craning her neck to look down the hallway. Mrs. McCrae, the director of the school, finally came out of the office.

"Mrs. Booth, hi," she said with a warm smile.

"Where's my son?" Brennan asked, having no patience for niceties. Mrs. McCrae took it all in stride, apparently used to anxious parents.

"Come with me," she said with a serene smile, and lead the way down the hallway.

They found Russ playing Legos with two other children. He looked up and smiled when he spotted his mother. Dropping the Legos, he ran to her.

"Mommy!" he yelled, throwing his arms around her legs.

She laughed throatily, dropping to her knees to hug him tightly. "Hi, baby. Ready to go?"

"Mommy, I'm not a baby! I'm a big boy," he whispered, scolding her and struggling to free himself from her arms. His friends were watching with interest.

"Sorry," she whispered back, "it just slipped out. Can we go now?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Mommy, guess what?" he asked as she stood and took his hand.

"What?" she asked, smiling her thanks at the teacher and Mrs. McCrae. They started down the hallway.

"I made a tower, but Jamie knocked it o'er and Miss Jane made her pick it up," Russ said breathlessly. "An' ya know what else?"

Brennan smiled, unbelievably happy to be holding his hand. "What?" she asked.

"Carrie stole my car, but Miss Jane tol' her that wasn' nice an' she had ta give it back," he said triumphantly.

"Ah," Brennan replied.

"Know what else?" he asked excitedly, hopping along beside her.

"No, what?"

"Jesse said she'd be my frien'," he said with a huge grin. "An' ya know what else?"

Brennan sighed. "Russ, why don't you wait until we're in the car? I think daddy might want to hear about your day too."

"Daddy's here?" he asked. At her nod he was suddenly dragging her along. "Yay! C'mon Mommy, I gotta tell Daddy 'bout my frien' Adam. His daddy's a fireman!" Brennan chuckled, hurrying to keep up with her son.

It was 8:30 and Russ was finally tucked away in bed. He had talked almost nonstop through the car ride home all the way through dinner. He finally started to wind down during his bath and his exciting day caught up to him. By the time they tucked him in, his eyes were droopy and his mouth was slack with exhaustion.

Brennan lay with her head in his lap. Booth was threading his fingers through her hair, his feet propped on the coffee table.

"He had a good day," she said with satisfaction. It seemed she had worried for nothing.

"Yeah. I knew he would," Booth replied with a half grin.

"Ha-ha, yeah, you were right," she said, smiling up at him.

"He's a lot like me," he said proudly.

"He remembered what Hodgins told him about the bacteria," she reminded him, equally proud, though for a different reason.

"Maybe he's spending too much time with the squints," Booth teased.

"There's nothing wrong with exposing him to science at an early age," she protested.

"My son is not going to be a squint," he said firmly.

She sat up, starting to get mad. "Really? Why not? You _married_ a squint!"

Booth took his feet off the coffee table and sat up. "I _married_ the woman I _love_ who just happens to also be a squint. Doesn't mean I want my son to be one."

Brennan narrowed her eyes at him. "He can be whatever he wants," she said.

"I can't believe we're arguing about this. He's only four," Booth muttered.

Brennan glared at him for a long moment, then the humor in the situation finally occurred to her. The smile started in her eyes then moved to her lips. She chuckled. "You're right. But promise me something."

Booth narrowed his eyes at her. "Uh-oh," he said, suddenly wary.

"Promise me you're not going to discourage him if he shows an interest in science," she said firmly.

Booth leaned toward her. "Fine. And you can't discourage his interest in law enforcement," he countered.

"He hasn't shown any interest in law enforcement," she argued.

"Not yet," Booth replied with a grin. "He will."

"That remains to be seen," she said, but she wasn't really into the argument any more. Instead her attention was drawn to his mouth. She knew the exact moment his attention shifted too. His breathing hitched and her eyes were drawn back to meet his. He was watching her steadily.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching for her. She willingly moved into his arms, settling comfortably against his chest. His hand stroked her hair and she sighed in contentment. She didn't think she'd ever tire of being in his arms.

His lips nibbled at her earlobe causing goosebumps to chase down her arms. She stretched her neck and he took the invitation, nipping and kissing his way down to her collarbone. He pressed a moist kiss on the sweet spot he knew drove her crazy and she hummed with pleasure. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up so she could cover his chest with kisses. He groaned as her nails raked gently over his back muscles, trailing down to the small of his back. He returned the favor, shoving her shirt up so he could stroke the soft skin of her abdomen. He sought her mouth, nibbling urgently at her lips. Opening to him, her senses soared as his tongue swept in and she moaned, straining closer to him. It wasn't close enough. Sitting up, she swung a leg over and settled astride his lap, purring with satisfaction as the bulge in his pants pressed into her center.

Booth looked up at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily as her fingers worked at his buttons. Her eyes widened and she smiled as his chest was bared. He pulled her shirt over her head and threw it aside, grinning in appreciation as she arched her back to remove her bra. His hands covered her breasts and her breath hitched as desire crashed through her in waves. He leaned up to kiss her lingeringly and she rolled her hips. Booth's hands caught her hips in his large hands.

"Easy. Keep that up and this is going to over too soon," he warned huskily. Brennan chuckled throatily, a devilish glint in her eye. Her fingers stroked down his chest, pausing to tease his nipples. He sucked in a breath, painfully aroused.

"Mommy?" came a small voice from down the hall. They both froze and their gazes locked.

"I think the living room is not the best place for this," he murmured with a cocked grin.

Brennan jumped up and pulled on her shirt, rolling her eyes. "No, really? Meet you in the bedroom," she whispered with a wicked grin. Booth groaned as he watched her walk away to take care of their son. He rolled to his feet, then bent to pick up her bra. He didn't want to have to explain to his curious four year old why mommy's clothes were on the living room floor.

**There you go. Now, it seems musie craves lots of feedback, so please click the little blue button and review so she won't make us wait so long for the next chappie! Thank you so much for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

They were in the SUV on their way to a crime scene. Booth glanced over at his partner. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet since they had set out twenty minutes ago and he wondered what was causing the frown that marred her brow.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he ventured. He picked up his coffee cup to take a sip.

"Would you ever consider having a vasectomy?" Brennan asked suddenly. Booth choked, tears springing to his eyes. She looked over at him. "Are you okay?" she asked innocently. Booth shook his head, coughing and wheezing as his lungs tried to recover. Brennan handed him a tissue which he used to wipe his eyes.

"Jeez, Bones!" he said hoarsely. "Could you give me some warning before blurting something like that out? We coulda crashed!"

Her look was bland. "Sorry." He put the tissue in his pocket, but showed no inclination to answer her question. "Well, would you?" she pressed.

He threw a frown her way. "No! Why would I? I _love_ kids."

"Well, you know I saw my OB/GYN yesterday," she began. He nodded warily. "Well, he recommended changing birth control methods due to the bad cramping that I've been experiencing, and a vasectomy was one of the options he brought up."

Booth sighed. "What if I want more kids?" he asked, troubled by the finality of the procedure.

She looked puzzled. "With who? Me? I thought you understood that I never wanted children—"

"That was before…" he began, trailing off at the look she gave him. "I thought maybe you had changed your mind, because of little Russ…" His voice faded as she shook her head firmly.

"I don't want any more children, Booth." His surprise was plain on his face and she went on. "Look, I love my son…I'm glad I had him. But I won't do it again. It's too hard."

His lips firmed as his temper rose. "Sorry if my son is such a burden—"

"No! You don't understand," she muttered, turning her head to look out the window. They were almost at the crime scene. "Could we talk about this later?" she asked.

A muscle jumped in his cheek as he ground his teeth. "You better believe it," he said in a low, angry voice. Brennan looked over at him and sighed. She should have waited to bring it up. Now their work dynamic was wrecked for the rest of the day. As he parked at the edge of the field where the crime unit had set up, she unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door handle. Booth's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Hey," he said softly. She looked up to find his warm brown eyes on her. The anger was gone. "Never forget that I love you," he murmured with a half smile. She smiled a bit too and blinked back tears. He glanced around. Clear. Leaned in for a brief kiss that helped restore the balance. For the time being.

B&B&B&B&B&B

Angela popped into Brennan's office. "Hey, I think I'm gonna call it a day," she announced. Brennan glanced up from her computer with a distracted look.

"Okay, have a good night, Ange," she said, looking back at the monitor with a frown. Angela studied her for a long moment. Something was up, she'd felt it all day. She could wait for her friend to confide in her, but who knew how long she'd have to wait for that. She came around the desk and leaned her hips on the edge.

"C'mon, Bren, spill. I know something's up, you and Booth were acting weird all afternoon," Angela said. Brennan looked at her again, still with the frown. "You might as well tell me."

Brennan sighed at sat back in her chair. "I asked him if he would get a vasectomy and he got mad," she admitted.

Angela's mouth fell open. "Sweetie, why would you do that? You know how much he loves children."

"I know that! But Dr. Simmons told me we needed to explore other birth control options and I just thought—"

"Bren, what if you decide to have more—" Angela began reasonably.

"No! God, why do people think because I had Russ that I've changed my views on having children?" Brennan asked desperately.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Because you had him. It's one thing to decide not to have children before you've actually had the experience. Now that you know how wonderful it is—" She broke off at the look on her friend's face. Uh-oh.

Brennan pursed her lips. "I don't want to go through it again, Ange," she said firmly. Her eyes met Angela's. "I love my son. I'm glad I had him. But everything I've gone through, feeling torn between my job and my son…I don't think I could do that with another baby. It would only get worse."

Angela nodded thoughtfully. "That's understandable. So, do you think Booth will agree to have a vasectomy?"

"Why wouldn't he? The procedure is much less invasive than a tubal ligation." She fell silent as another possible explanation suddenly sent fear screaming through her brain. "Unless he doesn't think we're going to last. Maybe he thinks if we break up and he finds someone else—"

"Okay, stop right there!" Angela said harshly. "I have _never_ seen a man so completely nuts over a woman, so that is just impossible. Unless, of course, you do something to drive him away."

"Impossible? Come on, he wouldn't be the first man who claimed to love his wife, but ended up in divorce court," Brennan pointed out.

Sometimes, like now, Angela wanted to slap some sense into this woman. "When are you gonna catch up, sweetie? _He loves you_. Period. End of discussion." She watched Brennan struggle with the concept of that absolute. After a few moments, she decided it was time to redirect the conversation. "Did the doctor mention any other options?"

Brennan nodded. "Problem is, most have side affects. The vasectomy would be the best option." She sighed. "But if he doesn't want to do it, I'll pick the method that has the least side affects with the highest statistics of success."

Angela smiled. "Good. Just don't make an issue of it, okay? I'm sure he has a very good reason if he doesn't want to get one."

Brennan looked thoughtful. "I know. I'd like to know what it is."

"Well, ask him, silly. I'm sure you'll feel better once you know."

B&B&B&B&B

It never failed. Somehow little Russ could sense when she needed some alone time with his father, and he became especially difficult. It started over dinner.

"I don' like broc'li," Russ said petulantly.

"Yes, you do. Just last week you loved it," Brennan said patiently.

Russ rolled his eyes and sighed. "That's cuz Daddy put sauce on it. I don' like it this way."

"C'mon, buddy, she didn't give you that much," Booth said, trying to head off the battle he could tell was brewing.

Russ pushed his bottom lip out. "I ate two pieces and I hate it," he said mutinously.

Brennan tried to be patient. "Fine, then you can be excused. Go get ready for your bath."

The boy's mouth fell open. "Daddy brought choc'late ice cream!"

"That's for people who clean their plate. If you can't clean your plate, you can't be hungry for ice cream," Booth said reasonably.

That brought on the water works. "No fair! Mommy made yucky broc'li!" he wailed.

Booth had no patience for drama. It had been a long day for everyone. "Why don't you go get ready for your bath."

Russ gave his dad a look. When daddy used that tone and his face looked like that, he knew it was no use. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, sniffling as he pushed back from the table and shuffled out of the room.

Brennan stared after him. Booth reached out and stroked her hand. "Hey, are you okay?"

She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were warm with concern and she mustered a half smile. "Yeah, I'm just tired. Would you take care of the cleanup while I go get him ready for bed?"

"We could trade, if you want. You're not his favorite person right now," he said softly, teasingly.

Brennan sighed. "No, it's okay. I can handle him."

She finally collapsed on the couch beside Booth at 9:10, completely frazzled. Booth muted the T.V. and pulled her close to his side.

"Why didn't you let me help?" he asked gently.

She blew out a breath. "I didn't mind. He was fine once he got into the bath. Of course, getting him out was a bit of a struggle, and then he wanted three stories. I managed to negotiate him down to two."

Booth chuckled. "I wonder where he got that stubborn streak," he teased.

She leaned her head back to pin him with a look. "I'd say he got a double dose," she said pointedly.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked warily.

"Why don't you want to get a vasectomy?"

Booth withdrew his arm and stood, pacing to the far end of the couch. He couldn't have this conversation while cuddling. It just felt…awkward. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the best way to explain. He turned to find her watching him steadily.

"It's just so…final, Temperance. I'm not even forty yet. What if we want to have more children later?"

She pursed her lips. "I told you, I don't want any more children. Russ is all I can handle. To be honest, sometimes he's _more_ than I can handle. Having more children would only add to my stress."

"I'll help out more—" he offered, but she interrupted.

"You already do," she said gently. "A lot more than a lot of dads. And I appreciate it. That isn't the problem and you know it."

Booth frowned. "Then what is?"

"You know how hard it's been for me, trying to balance my career and being a mother. I don't want to add to it," she said firmly.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry, if there were some way I could—"

"That's just it, Booth, there is nothing you can do. This is _my_ problem."

His head dropped forward and he stood there for a long moment. Finally he looked at her. "I'm not ready to give up on having more children," he said, the certainty in his voice causing her heart to seize. She had to know.

"With another woman?" she asked in a broken whisper.

Booth straightened, shocked to his very core. "What? No! How can you ask--?" The sadness on her face was his undoing. He strode over and sat down beside her. "I don't _want_ another woman. Shit, I can't believe after all these years, you still doubt—"

"I know you love me now, but what about four or five years from now? Statistically speaking, marriages don't last more than—"

"Dammit! No!" he growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her to make her stop. "What do I have to do to prove how much I love you?" he asked roughly. She blinked up at him, a sheen of tears in her eyes. It tore at his heart, this doubt of hers. "You really are the most stubborn woman I've ever known. God knows why, but I love you so much…when I think about what I'd do if I ever lost you…I can't breathe," he confessed huskily.

"Me too," she admitted with a break in her voice.

Suddenly he snatched her close and held her tightly. Tears pricked his eyes as he felt the sobs that racked her body. Rubbing her back soothingly, he rocked her a little and closed his eyes. Leaning back on the couch, he tried to get her to relax against him. Finally she started to loosen up and her arms stole up around his neck, clutching him like a life line.

She pulled back a little to look up into his dear face. Reaching up to stroke the frown from his brow, she drew a shaky breath. "Why do you put up with me?" she whispered with a weak smile.

He smiled that half cocked grin that always got her. "Oh, you know, it's that amazing combination of brains, beauty and a drop dead figure."

Her smile broadened. "I love you."

"I love you more," he said solemnly. "I want to kiss you." Low, husky, incredibly sexy.

"What are you waiting for?" she whispered. Then his lips were on hers and she moaned as she opened to him. Booth threaded his fingers into her hair, slanting his mouth over hers for a better fit. His tongue explored the depths of her mouth leisurely, as though he had all night. Her hands found the hem of his shirt and pushed up under it, spreading over the taught muscles of his abs. He broke the kiss when her hands moved down to his belt buckle.

"Let's go in the bedroom so we won't get interrupted," he said huskily. Her incredible eyes opened and his pulse thundered at the desire he saw there.

"Yeah," she whispered in that smoky voice that always drove him crazy. She got up and tugged at his hand, leading the way, and he went along eagerly. God, he'd follow her anywhere.

Booth locked the door behind them. No way were they stopping for anything this time. Brennan was already stripping, her movements hurried. He stepped up to help her with her bra. Naked at last, she turned to face him.

"Still dressed? Tsk, tsk, tsk, what am I going to do with you?" she teased, reaching for his buttons. She was a woman on a mission. Soon, with his help, he was free of all those annoying clothes and they were finally skin to skin. They both sighed blissfully and lay down together, and their movements slowed by mutual consent. Thankfully their son slept on through the night.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Angela sipped her iced tea, watching her friend over the rim of her glass. It had been three days since the vasectomy episode and things seemed to be okay between Brennan and Booth. But Angela's radar was on high alert. Brennan wasn't acting any different, but something felt…off.

"I'm thinking about getting a tubal ligation," Brennan said after their food arrived.

Angela frowned. "Really? What does Booth think about that?"

Brennan shrugged. "I haven't told him yet."

"Told him? Don't you mean, you haven't _discussed_ it with him?" Angela asked.

"What's to discuss? It's my body. If I want to have a tubal ligation, then I'll have one," Brennan said reasonably.

Angela shook her head. "That's where you're wrong, sweetie. While I would normally agree with the 'it's my body' argument, being married puts a kink in it. You have to discuss it with Booth."

Brennan frowned and finished chewing. "You just contradicted yourself. If it's my body and my decision, why do I need to talk it over with Booth?"

Her friend shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're thinking about changing your hairstyle, Bren. Getting your tubes tied affects _both_ of you."

The frown intensified. "I've made it clear that I don't want any more children. Why should he have a problem with a tubal ligation?"

"Trust me, he will." Brennan was staring at her and Angela had to count to ten to control the urge to slap her. "Don't even _think_ about doing it without talking to him first, okay? For the sake of your relationship?"

"I guess you're right," Brennan said reluctantly. Angela was watching her with a worried look on her face. "I promise I won't decide until I've talked to him."

Angela sighed with relief. "Good." She glanced at Brennan's plate. "You gonna finish those fries?" she asked hopefully. With an absent shake of her head, Brennan pushed the plate away, her thoughts already on the best way to bring up the subject with Booth. If Angela was right, it wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

B&B&B&B&B&B

She really hated to bring it up during the only 'alone' time they had, but she didn't know when else to do it. They were relaxing on the couch after Russ was bathed and put to bed that night. Booth had put on some soft jazz and they were stretched out on the couch together unwinding, his head on her lap. She was absently stroking his hair, her mind working on the best way to bring up the subject.

"Parker has a soccer game Saturday morning," he said idly. "Wanna come?"

"Hmmm?" she said, dropping her gaze to his. "Oh, sure. I suppose I could go to the lab in the afternoon."

Booth reached up and tugged at a lock of her hair. "Hey, the lab can survive without you for one Saturday, Temperance."

"Maybe. Let me think about it. It's only Tuesday," she replied.

"Okay," he said agreeably, then his eyes drifted closed. "Mmmm, that feels good." She was stroking his forehead lightly. She smiled faintly and continued for a few more minutes. Finally she couldn't wait any longer.

"Seeley?" she asked softly, tentatively.

His eyes popped open and his body tensed. She rarely called him Seeley. "What?" he asked warily. She was watching him solemnly.

"I'm thinking about getting a tubal ligation," she said finally.

He frowned and sat up. This wasn't a 'head in the lap' kind of conversation. "Are you sure you want to do something that drastic?" he asked. He knew he was going to have to tread carefully with her. She was so stubbornly independent.

"I don't want more children. I don't know how to convey how strongly I feel about that. For some reason, everyone thinks I might change my mind, but I'm very certain—"

Booth frowned. "How is this different from me getting a vasectomy?"

Brennan pursed her lips, trying not to lose her temper. "It isn't. I have accepted that you're unwilling to have a vasectomy. You have every right to make that decision. It's your body. By the same token, I should be able to make the same kind of decision in regards to my body."

Booth jumped to his feet and paced away from her. When he was far enough away, he turned to look at her. "You're forgetting the main difference between the two scenarios," he began desperately. He had to make her see reason. "You **wanted** me to get a vasectomy. I **don't** want you to get a tubal ligation."

It was her turn to get to her feet. "What gives you the right to make that kind of decision for me?" she asked harshly, her voice rising as her temper flared.

"I'm your husband!" he replied, starting to get angry himself. That she would consider doing this, to destroy his last hope of ever having another child with her, was tearing him up.

"I was wondering when you were going to try this!" she said in a low, angry voice.

"Try what?" he asked, nonplussed.

"To exert some kind of control over me, like marrying me gave you some kind of license to push me around!" she accused hotly.

"Don't you think you're blowing this out of proportion?" he asked unwisely.

That pushed her over the edge. "Yeah, that's me, the wildly emotional woman, blowing things way out of proportion!"

"We're just having a discussion. I'm not trying to tell you what to do; I just want to have the chance to talk it over before you do something this drastic."

She went on like he hadn't spoken. "This is why I didn't want to get married—ever, to anyone. Get married and in no time at all, the man takes over and thinks he ought to run things." She folded her arms over her middle and looked at him sadly. "I hoped it was going to be different with you," she said with a catch in her voice.

That stopped him cold. He had set out five years ago to show her how good marriage could be. So far, he thought it had gone very well. Sure, they had had their share of bumpy spots, but they'd always worked through them together and he knew their relationship was stronger now than it had ever been. They'd get through this too.

She sighed, suddenly weary to the bone. She turned and started toward the hallway. "Its late, I'm going to bed," she said over her shoulder.

He stood helplessly watching her walk away. Maybe she just needed some time to think about it. Sometimes the best thing to do was to leave her alone to work things out. He waited until he knew she was in bed, then went in to get ready for bed himself. For the first time in their marriage, they fell asleep back to back, not touching.

B&B&B&B&B

The invisible wall was still there the next morning. They were polite to each other, like two strangers forced to share living accommodations. Russ seemed to pick up on the tension between the adults and chose to be difficult.

"I don' like corn flakes," he mumbled as his mother poured him a bowl.

"Fine. How about some Rice Krispies?" she asked, forcing a light tone.

He scowled, looking like a miniature of his daddy, with his brown eyes and unruly dark hair. "I like Cap'n Crunch," he said stubbornly.

Brennan counted silently to ten. "You know I don't buy that stuff, its pure sugar. We have Cheerios," she offered.

Heavy sigh. "'Kay," he said grumpily. Pouring the corn flakes back, she poured the Cheerios and added milk.

Booth came in pulling on his jacket. "Hey buddy, you need to hurry. I have an early meeting."

"I could take him," she offered, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Are you sure?" Booth asked, grabbing a bagel and a travel mug full of coffee.

"Yeah, I'll just be a little late," she said, turning to refill her coffee cup.

"Thanks, I'll owe you one," he said, striving for a light tone, willing her to meet his eyes. He leaned in to kiss her, which she returned automatically. "Lunch at the diner at noon?" he murmured hopefully. That got her attention and his heart rose as her beautiful eyes finally locked with his. She nodded. Suddenly he couldn't wait for noon.

B&B&B&B

She beat him to the diner, but only because she showed up ten minutes early. She was sipping iced tea when he came in. Sliding into the booth, he signaled the waitress for an iced tea.

"Hi," he said with a smile, searching her eyes for some sign as to her mood.

She smiled too. Good sign. "Hi. How is your day going?" Gone was the evasive eyes and chilly demeanor. Booth could tell she had reached some kind of decision. He just hoped it was one he could live with.

"Good. No new cases, so I've been able to catch up on some paperwork," he said. In truth, he hadn't gotten much done, he was so busy wondering what to say to her—and what she would say to him.

She waited until they had started eating before bringing up the subject that was foremost in their minds. "I talked to my doctor. He recommends that I try the patch."

Booth frowned, puzzled. "They make a patch for it now?"

She nodded. "Yes, he assured me its one of the best methods of birth control with the fewest side effects."

Relief flooded him. "Great. I mean, if that's what you want to do," he said, searching her eyes.

She smiled. "I think it's a good compromise." Her smile faded. "I'm sorry about what I said, about being married to you. I didn't mean it."

His eyes softened. "I know you didn't." She gave him a doubtful look. "Okay, I have to admit, I did worry that you might really regret marrying me."

She reached for his hand, sorry that she had caused him to worry. "I did." His mouth dropped open and she hastened to explain. "For just a little while, in the middle of being mad, I wondered if it had been a mistake. Even after five years, I'm still not used to being accountable to someone else," she said gently.

"Come here," he said hoarsely, opening his arms to her. She hesitated, then scooted around the booth and into his arms. He closed them around her as she burrowed into his chest. "I love you," he murmured in her ear. She pulled back a little to look up at him. "I'm glad—make that ecstatic—that I married you. I already knew you were a strong, independent woman—I admired that in you, even though it drove me nuts sometimes." Her lips twisted into an almost smile at that. "I didn't marry you to change you. Over the years we've made compromises for each other. I think it's what makes our relationship so strong." She snuggled back up to him and he sighed, relieved that they had settled it.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, peeps, I've had zero inspiration for this story, but musie popped up with this gem of an idea while I was driving. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far and stuck with me through the long (for me) dry spells. Thanks for reading and please leave a review. Musie is a review pig!**

**A Mother's Secret**

**Chapter 11**

Booth and Russ were on their way to soccer practice. Usually his son kept up a steady stream of talk, but he had been unusually quiet. Booth glanced at the rearview mirror, puzzled.

"You okay back there, buddy?" he asked.

"Yeah," was the uncharacteristically brief reply. There was a long pause. Then, "Daddy?"

Booth knew that tone of voice. His son had a question, and he hoped he had an answer. "Yeah, buddy?"

"When's Mommy's belly gonna grow?"

Booth's eyes shot to the rearview mirror in surprise, hoping this wasn't about what he dreaded it might be. "Uh, its not, Russ. You know how hard she works to stay in shape."

Russ rolled his eyes. "Not fat, Daddy! So I can get a baby brother," he said in a tone that told Booth he was being dense. "Shane's mommy's belly growed big and he told me they went to the hospital one night and next day brought home his baby brother. He said anybody can go get a baby at the hospital, but the mommy's belly has to grow big first," he explained with exaggerated patience.

Booth sighed. He should have expected this sooner or later. Every kid got curious about where babies came from sooner or later, but he hadn't expected it quite this soon and he certainly wouldn't have chosen a car ride to tackle the sticky subject.

"Well, what Shane didn't tell you is the mommy and daddy have to _want_ the mommy's belly to grow," Booth explained, hoping that would be the end of it. But Russ was definitely his mother's son.

"Why wouldn't you? Don't you want a baby?" Russ asked.

Booth swallowed a groan of frustration. Where was Bones when the hard questions came up? "Mommy and I have decided we don't need any more babies."

"But I want a little brother!" Russ whined.

"You have a big brother," Booth pointed out, trying to head off a tantrum.

"He don't live with us and 'sides, he usually don't wanna play with me."

Pulling into a parking space at the park, Booth threw the SUV into park and turned to look at his son.

"Why don't you talk to Mommy about this, okay son?"

Russ sighed and unfastened his seatbelt. "Okay, if you think it'll help. I don't know what's the big deal. I'd help with the baby."

"I'm sure you'd be a big help, buddy. But we'll never find out without Mommy's cooperation," Booth said, popping the hatch and getting out. He felt slightly guilty for putting this on her, but after all, she was the one who didn't want more kids. Let her try to explain her way out of this.

Russ was coloring at the kitchen table while his mom made dinner that night. His dad was watching a football game in the other room. Swinging his legs, he picked up a blue crayon and started filling in Spongebob's shorts. He knew they were black in the cartoon, but he liked blue better.

"Mommy?" he said, concentrating on staying inside the lines as best he could. He usually only messed up a little. Mommy was so proud of his pictures, she always put them on the fridge with magnets.

"Yes?" she asked, layering meat sauce and lasagna noodles in a baking dish.

"I wanna baby brother," he said, putting down the blue and picking up the yellow crayon. He liked yellow, it was like sunshine.

His mommy was quiet for a long time, so long he wondered if she had heard him. He looked over at her. "Mommy?" he prodded.

"I heard you, Russ," she said, turning to look at him and blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You've got a brother."

He rolled his eyes. "He's my big brother. I wanna baby brother," he said stubbornly.

Turning to sprinkle the last of the cheese on top of the final layer, she opened the oven to put the dish in to bake. Closing the door, she set the timer and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Then she took a seat at the table. This was what he loved about his mommy. She always took time to talk to him when he asked a question and she never talked to him like he was a baby.

"Russ, having another baby is a decision the whole family has to make," she explained gently. "It's a big step that affects everybody in the family, so we have to make sure its something everybody agrees on."

Russ wrinkled his brow. "Why don't you want a baby? It would be fun!"

She nodded a bit. "True, babies are fun. But they are also a lot of work and a huge commitment. Our life is pretty full already, with our jobs and your school and the sports you play. If we had another baby around, we might have to cut back on some of those activities. Are you willing to make that sacrifice?" she asked reasonably.

He thought about that. He loved playing soccer and tee ball. If getting a baby brother meant he couldn't play, he didn't know if it was worth it. Another thought occurred to him. With a baby around, mommy and daddy might not have as much time for him. He kinda liked not having to share them with anybody but Parker, who only came around every other weekend, so he didn't really count. Maybe a baby brother wasn't such a great idea after all.

"I guess not," he replied reluctantly. He brightened as a new idea came to him. "Can I have a puppy?"

His mommy chuckled and ruffled his spiky brown hair. "We'll talk to Daddy. I'm not opposed to having a dog, especially if you are willing to be responsible for it." She got up and got a glass of ice water, then went into the living room. Russ resumed his coloring, thoughts of what kind of puppy he might get banishing all thoughts of a baby brother.

Booth's team was losing and he was growling at the T.V. Brennan sat down next to him, curling her legs up under her and leaning into his side. She waited for a commercial break before speaking.

"Russ asked me about a baby brother," she murmured, sliding him a look. He picked up his beer and took a sip, eyes fastened on the screen.

"Mmmhmm," he responded.

She sighed. "You told him to ask me, didn't you?" she accused softly, darting a glance toward the kitchen. Russ was happily coloring away.

"Mmmhmm," he repeated, setting his beer down. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. "You're the one who doesn't want any more children. I felt it was only fair that you had to explain to our son why he couldn't have a baby brother or sister."

She snuggled up to his side. "Fortunately, he's now decided he'd rather have a puppy," she said triumphantly.

Booth frowned down at her. "A puppy? How did you manage that?"

She chuckled throatily. "I merely pointed out that a baby would cut into other activities and we would have to make sacrifices. My son is a very practical young man."

"Oh-ho! _Your_ son, eh? The other day when he got into the cookie jar he was _my_ son!" Booth teased.

Grinning up at him unrepentantly, she poked him in the side. "That's how it works. When he's misbehaving and making my life difficult, he's your son because he is obviously displaying the traits he got from you. By the same token, when he is reasonable and displays amazing intelligence, he's my son."

The frown grew more pronounced. "That doesn't make sense! You've done your share of misbehaving and making my life difficult over the years."

She stiffened under his arm, offended. "Oh, really? Well, I'm amazed you put up with me, if I'm so horrible."

He chuckled and pulled her closer. "Not horrible. Just…challenging. And I wouldn't have you any other way," he said seriously. He leaned in, stopping just short of kissing her. Her eyes flashed a challenge at him. "I love you," he whispered. Her eyes softened and he kissed her sweetly. "Even if you are a pain in the ass," he teased because he couldn't resist the urge.

"So are you," she countered. "But I love you anyway." Then she kissed him, slipping her tongue in to tease him. He groaned and pulled her across his lap, stroking his hands up her sides and up into her hair. A moment later they had to stop when Russ brought in his picture to show them.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Here you go, at long last a new chapter. Thanks for hanging in there.**

A Mother's Secret

Chapter 12

Booth opened the front door and walked in, Parker right behind him carrying his duffle. This was his weekend to stay with them. They both stopped short as Brennan strode into the living room, obviously in a bad mood.

"Your son got in a fight this afternoon," Brennan said without so much as a 'hello'.

Booth frowned. "Russ? That's not like him."

"Well, he did," she said angrily.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"In his room," she said. Parker hefted his duffle and headed back to the bedrooms. Brennan went on. "I had to go pick him up from school. The principal suspended him for three days. She was going to suspend him for a week, but agreed to reduce it since this was his first offense. Booth, you have to talk to him!" She kept her voice low, but Booth could tell she was really agitated. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line and she folded her arms as she stared at him expectantly. Uh-oh, Booth thought as he waited for her to elucidate.

"This is your fault!" she hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.

Booth put his hands on his hips. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"Your insistence that we keep up this pretense of Santa Claus," she whispered. "He got into a fight with a fourth grader who said it was a lie."

Booth frowned. Even though Russ was big for a third grader, the argument must have been pretty bad for him to have gotten physical with an older kid.

"Talk to him!" Brennan said.

"And say what? You want me to tell him there's no Santa?" Booth didn't want to do that if he didn't have to. He enjoyed keeping the myth alive for his son and had been looking forward to at least one or two more Christmases with Santa.

"Yes!" she said firmly. "I've never been comfortable lying to him about it and I think its time to tell him the truth. Since it's technically your lie, you should be the one to tell him."

He sighed. She was probably right. Damn her. "You want me to tell him there is no Santa _and_ admit I've been lying to him all this time?"

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Yes. You have a problem with that?"

"Of course I do. I've always stressed the importance of being truthful. Admitting I've been lying to him is going to make me look like a hypocrite."

"If the boot fits, wear it," she said with a twist of her lips and an 'I told you so' look.

"That's shoe…if the shoe fits—" he began, but the withering look she gave him stopped him.

Taking a deep breath, Booth started pacing in front of her. "There has to be another way. Can't I just tell him it's wrong to fight, no matter what?"

Brennan ground her teeth in frustration. "No, Booth." He gave her a desperate look. "What's the problem? He's going to find out in a year or two anyway."

"I know, but this isn't the way I wanted to do it. And I really wanted another Christmas or two."

Brennan relented at the wistful look on his face. Walking up to him, she squeezed his hand. "He's growing up, Booth. You can't keep him little forever," she murmured soothingly.

"Not forever…just another year or two. He's too young," he whispered.

She leaned up and kissed him softly. "Come on. We'll tell him together."

He nodded reluctantly and they headed for Russ' room. They passed Parker in the hallway, but they were too focused on the task ahead of them to pay him any attention.

Russ was sitting on his bed, playing with his Transformers. He looked up warily as his parents came in and closed the door. He looked back down. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" he asked miserably.

Booth came and sat on the edge of the bed and Brennan sat at the foot. "I'm afraid so, bud. Wanna tell us what happened?"

Russ straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, looking his dad in the eye. He had a split lip and there was a streak of dirt on one cheek. "Stupid Chad Stewart said there wasn't no Santa Claus and I said my dad said there is and he said you was a liar!" he said all in a rush. "So I punched him in the face and then he slugged me and tore my shirt and pushed me down. I got back up and punched him in the eye and he started yellin' for the teacher."

Booth suppressed a surge of pride at his son's courage against a larger opponent. He knew his wife wouldn't appreciate it. He cleared his throat and assumed a stern demeanor. "Buddy, fighting isn't the answer. You should always try to talk through disagreements."

Russ rolled his eyes and looked at his mom, then turned back to his dad. "I _tried_, Dad. But when he called you a liar, I got mad. You told me FBI agents never lie. He wouldn't take it back."

Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance. Booth sighed. "Yeah, well, uh, about Santa Claus—" he began slowly, but Russ interrupted.

"Oh, I know about Santa Claus," he said, looking down at the toy he held.

Booth looked puzzled. "You do?"

Russ looked up and nodded matter-of-factly. "Yup, Parker explained. It's okay."

His parents exchanged another glance, this time one of surprise. "Are you sure?" his mom asked. He was taking this awfully well.

Russ shrugged. "Yeah, it's no big," he said, using one of his big brother's sayings. He looked at his dad and then his mom. "Am I grounded?" he asked, obviously having moved on to more immediate issues.

Booth was studying his son closely. "No T.V. for a week," he replied absently.

The boy groaned. "Oh, man! I waned to watch the Santa cartoon that's on tomorrow night. Can I record it?"

"Sure," Brennan answered, just as mystified as Booth. Meeting her husband's eyes, she jerked her head toward the door. They got up and started to leave, turning as one to look back at their son. He had gone back to playing with his Transformers, apparently oblivious to the anxiety his parents had just experienced.

They adjourned to the kitchen. "What did Parker say to him?" Brennan wondered quietly.

Booth scrubbed at his face. "I don't know. Whatever it was, it must have been good. I'll go talk to him." Dropping a kiss on her lips, he headed to Parker's room.

Booth paused at the open door. Parker was booting up his computer. At fifteen he was nearly as tall as his dad and lanky. He wore his unruly dark hair too long and favored baggy T-shirts and low-slung jeans. Booth knocked on the doorjamb.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure," Parker replied, his eyes glued to the monitor.

Booth went to lean against the wall next to the desk. "What did you say to Russ?"

Parker looked up and shrugged. "Nothin', I just explained that some grownups need to believe in Santa. Its up to us kids to keep believing so they can."

Booth looked thoughtful. "That's all? But you don't believe…haven't for years."

Parker looked a little sheepish. "Actually, I stopped believing long before I let on…I was afraid if you knew I didn't believe anymore, I wouldn't get any presents."

"Really? How old were you?"

"About Russ' age. Benny told me," he said, mentioning his best friend. "Of course, I didn't react like Russ did, but Benny was nice about it. But the fight wasn't about believing in Santa. Russ was defending you, Dad."

"I know. Did you tell him I lied?"

"Not in so many words." Booth looked surprised and Parker went on. "I couldn't do that to him, Dad. He worships you. If I told him that…I just couldn't." Parker smirked at the pleased look on his father's face. "So, I explained that grownups know that kids need some magic in their lives, and that's why there are things like Santa and the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy. He seemed to get it. He's pretty smart."

Booth's lips quirked. "You're no slouch either, bub." Parker grinned and looked away sheepishly. Booth sobered. "Thanks, Parker. I owe ya one."

"Really?" He got a sly look on his face. "Maybe you could get me some more RAM for my computer?"

Booth cocked a grin at him. "Maybe Santa will bring it, if you've been good, that is," he teased, and they shared a laugh.

**Now, please click the little blue button and make musie fat and happy!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This next part could be called cliché, but the point of this story is to portray the many issues B&B may encounter raising a kid together in their line of work. This arc of the story will probably cover two or three chapters. I want to send out a huge 'THANK YOU' to my friend luli for being such a great sounding board. You ROCK, luli! And another THANK YOU to puppet for giving it a final look over—love ya, sweetie!**

A Mother's Secret

Chapter 13

Booth's desk phone rang and he picked it up absently, frowning at the forensics report he was reading and trying to understand. "Booth."

"Somebody's taken Russ," Brennan said without preamble in a voice trembling with fear and anger.

"What? Who? How do you know?" he demanded, his heart slamming in his chest. This was one of his greatest fears, that his wife or their son would one day be threatened.

"I just got an anonymous call. A man's voice, distorted somehow, told me…" she said brokenly, on the verge of tears. "He wants me to…lie on the stand tomorrow, change my testimony, or he's going to--" she choked out.

Booth stood, blindly reaching for his jacket. "I'll be right there. Just…wait for me." Hanging up, he pulled on his jacket, dropped his cell in his pocket and felt to make sure his gun was in his shoulder holster even though he already knew it was. Within minutes he was in the SUV, headed for the Jeffersonian, driving with barely controlled terror.

All the squints were in her office, watching helplessly as she paced back and forth, her arms folded. She stopped dead in her tracks when he walked in, looking at him with ravaged eyes. A moment later she was in his arms, face buried in his shoulder. Booth looked at Cam as he folded her close, stroking her back soothingly.

"What happened?" he rasped softly.

Cam's look was bleak. "We're still trying to figure out how he got Dr. Brennan's number. We think the call came from someone connected with Caine, trying to tip the odds in his favor. Without Dr. Brennan's testimony the prosecution's case will probably fall apart."

Brennan said something unintelligible against Booth's chest and he loosened his arms as she raised her head. "I can't lie on the stand, Booth," she said softly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. Her lips firmed angrily even as a pair of tears rolled down her cheeks. "He's guilty…he's got to pay for what he did."

"I know, honey. We'll figure something out, don't worry," he murmured as reassuringly as he could, even though his thoughts were chaotic as panic pulsed through him. "Has anyone checked to make sure Russ is actually missing?"

Angela spoke up from her spot on the couch next to Hodgins, who was holding her hand tightly. "He missed the bus after school. One of the kids remembered him getting into a car. The cops are with the kid now, getting a description of the vehicle and hopefully the driver."

Booth let his wife turn out of his embrace, though he kept a supporting arm around her. "He wouldn't get into a stranger's car, he knows better. That means he probably knew the driver. Any chance Parker or Rebecca picked him up?" he asked hopefully.

Brennan moved away from him, shaking her head. "We already checked with them, and all of his friends and their parents. Nobody we know picked him up," she said wearily. Her shoulders were rounded as she stood apart from him, staring at the floor.

Frustration rose in Booth. "There has to be something we can do!" he said roughly, running a hand through his hair, starting to pace himself. Nobody said anything because there was nothing to say. He tried to think, but his mind kept seizing up at the thought of his nine year old son in the clutches of some maniac. He stopped in front of Cam. "Who is running the investigation?"

"Richards," she replied. Booth raised his brows at her and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Don't waste your time asking to be assigned to the case, Seeley. You know Cullen's position—"

"I can't just sit around while my son is in danger, Cam. You of all people should know—"

"I'm just saying, you know he isn't going to allow you to participate in the investigation. You're too close to it," she said reasonably.

One of the security guards appeared in the doorway with a large yellow envelope. "Dr. Brennan? A bike messenger just dropped this off. We x-rayed it—looks like some kind of tape."

Booth strode over and reached for the envelope. "Wait, Booth!" Brennan shouted. He snatched his hand back and threw her a quizzical look. "Fingerprints," she said, brushing past him as she pulled on a latex glove. Taking the envelope carefully, she carried it to the desk and laid it down gently. Slicing the end open with a pair of scissors, she tilted the envelope. A cassette tape and a Polaroid slid out.

"I have a cassette player at my station," Zach offered quietly. Brennan nodded at him, and then picked up the picture by its edges as Booth came to stand beside her. Russ looked up at them from the picture. He'd obviously been crying, but otherwise he looked okay. Zach came back with the cassette player and Brennan carefully put the tape in the machine, closing the cover and hitting play.

"Dr. Brennan," came the distorted male voice, "we have your son. As you can see by the photo, he is fine and he will stay that way as long as you do exactly as I say. You're going to lie on the stand tomorrow. I don't care what you say, but you better make it good so they won't find Caine guilty. When the verdict comes in, I'll be in contact again. Oh, and don't bother fingerprinting the envelope or the tape or the photo—I wore gloves."

Silence reigned for a full minute after the end of the recording. Booth was the first to speak. "I don't get it. Even if Bones lies on the stand and Caine gets off, all she would have to do is tell the D.A. she was testifying under duress and the acquittal would be overturned."

Cam frowned, and then shrugged. "Maybe Caine doesn't know that."

Brennan folded her arms, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms as though she was chilled. "I can't lie, Booth," she said softly, her voice cracking.

"I'll talk to the prosecutor. Maybe he can give us some idea how to—" Booth said desperately.

"No, Booth," Cam said, shaking her head sadly. "He would have to tell the judge, who would declare a mistrial. There's no telling what they'd do to Russ then."

Booth pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Caroline? This is Booth. How soon can you get to the Jeffersonian?"

"Well, chere, that depends on why you want me there," she said in her usual caustic manner.

"We have a serious situation and I need your advice."

The desperate edge to his voice got her attention. "I'll be there in ten minutes. This better be good."

While they waited Brennan packaged up the envelope, tape and photo to send to the FBI forensics lab. Regardless of what the kidnapper had said, she didn't want to take a chance that there might be some latent fingerprints. At this point it was all they had.

Caroline swept in and stopped to look around at the somber group gathered in Dr. Brennan's office. "Y'all look like someone died," she observed, her gaze coming to rest on Booth.

His face was grim. "My son's been kidnapped," he said, then launched into a brief rundown of the situation.

Caroline sighed and shook her head. "Well, ain't this a fine mess? Your kidnapper's either stupid as a post or sly as a fox. If Dr. Brennan recants after the verdict, ain't no tellin' for sure if the verdict will be overturned. If there's enough other evidence, then double jeopardy will attach. If there's any way to find the boy before she testifies tomorrow—"

"I can't lie on the stand," Brennan repeated again. 'Why doesn't anyone believe me?' she wondered, frustrated.

"Is there any reason to doubt they're gonna carry through with their threat?" Caroline asked.

Booth shook his head. "I'm not willing to take that chance," he said, then looked at his wife. "Are you?" he asked her softly.

Closing her eyes, she turned away and stood stiffly, arms folded as though afraid she might fly apart at any moment. "You don't understand," she muttered finally. "It goes against everything I believe in."

"Fuck that!" Booth said in a low growl. Her head snapped around and her wide eyes met his. "This is our son's _life_ we're talking about! We'll get the bastard _after_ we get Russ back. That's all that matters."

Fury flared in her eyes. "Fine for you to say that, you're not being forced to compromise your integrity—"

"What good is your integrity going to do you if they kill our son?" Booth asked harshly. The others in the room all shifted uncomfortably, eyes averted, as the partners faced off.

She narrowed her eyes, angrier at him than she'd ever been before. "If you think this is easy for me, you don't know me very well. I wish it was. But if I do this, what's to stop it from happening again? Am I going to have to worry about my son's safety every time I have to give expert testimony?"

"Not if we get Caine anyway. Prove that it was a useless ploy."

"And if we don't? If the judge decides that double jeopardy applies and he gets off?"

"Then we charge him with kidnapping and extortion and whatever else we can find," Booth said desperately.

"He's in jail awaiting trial. Chances are there is no evidence connecting him to the kidnapping." Booth hated to hear the defeat in her voice.

"We have to try, Temperance," Booth said, his voice gentling. Tears choked him as the torment in her eyes tore at his heart. "Please," he rasped, reaching out to her. "They're going to kill our son."

She shook her head even as she took his hand and her anger dissipated. "They won't. You won't let them," she said huskily, moving closer to him and staring into his eyes. "I know you'll find him…before it's too late."

Booth felt the weight of her faith in him settle across his shoulders as he pulled her into his arms and her face turned into his neck. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes against the terror and pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. He said a quick heartfelt prayer.

**A/N: Yeah, like I said, cliché, but c'mon—I think the reason its cliché is because it is a very real possibility. Anyway, thanks for reading, now please click the little blue button and tell me what you think. Musie needs feedback to fuel her creativity for the next chapter, which is already started, but has stalled for the moment.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry this was so long in coming, I was having a bit of a hard time and musie got distracted by that two shot New Years fic I wrote, New Years Revelation. If you haven't read it, please do, it's full of lovely smutterfluff. Reviews really make me smile, so please let me know what you think.**

A Mother's Secret

Chapter 14

There were no fingerprints, aside from the security personnel's, on the package or its contents. Brennan put the receiver back in its cradle gently, even though she really wanted to slam it down. Violence wouldn't change anything, though it might have made her feel a bit better to vent a little. She didn't consider herself a violent person, but then she'd never been in this situation before. A detached part of her observed that she was exhibiting classic anthropological tendencies—a mother's protective instincts—which would cause her to behave in a manner counter to her personality. One thing was certain—if she had the chance, she was going to beat the crap out of the person or persons who had taken her son.

Booth walked in just then and stopped in front of her desk. His spiky hair was standing up in all directions and his tie was askew, but what was really telling was the frantic look in his eyes. "The kid only remembers the car was a white, four-door sedan."

Brennan frowned. "He didn't get make or model? License plate?"

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he shook his head. "Apparently nine year olds aren't that detail oriented. And he only remembered that the driver was a man, but he wasn't even sure about that. It could have been a woman with short hair." He put his hands on his hips. "The lab have anything?"

"Not even a partial print. This guy is very careful." They stared at each other pensively for a long moment. Brennan bit her lip. "I-I'm going to have to lie on the stand, aren't I?" she asked hesitantly.

"Looks that way," he replied gently. He came around the desk to hunker down by her chair. "It may be the only way," he began, then stopped when her tormented eyes locked with his. He reached out to stroke a finger down her cheek. "Do you really think you could live with the consequences if you don't?"

Her eyes drifted shut at the gentleness in his touch and voice. A moment later she opened them again. "No," she rasped with an edge to her tone. "You're right, I can't take a chance that they might carry out their threat."

Leaning forward, Booth kissed her briefly. "It'll be okay," he assured her, trying to believe his own words.

XXX&&&XXX

Booth's cell rang as they were opening their front door later that evening. "Booth," he said, then shot Brennan a surprised look. "Hi, Trina, what's up?" He shut the door behind him as he listened. "Really? Do me a favor, run Caine's relatives and known associates, see what pops—you did?" pause, then a smile. "You're the best, Trina. Would you send that to my cell?" He paused and listened and Brennan tried to wait patiently for him to finish the phone call so he could fill her in. "I'll deal with Cullen—" he began, breaking off when Trina interrupted him. "You're not gonna get fired, Trina, I promise—" he said in his most reassuring tone, but she cut him off again. "I know it's not my case, but dammit, this is my son…." A muscle jumped in his cheek as he stopped to listen again. "I know, and I appreciate the call, but what did you think I was going to do with this info? Sit at home and wait?" He sighed and closed his eyes wearily as she answered. When he replied his voice was softer with an edge of desperation. "Please, Trina…they say they're going to kill him. I need—" His eyes opened and locked with his wife's worried gaze. His brows rose and a faint smile touched his lips. "Thanks, Trina, you're the best. Great work…yeah, bye now." He snapped the phone shut.

"What is it, Booth?" she asked.

"That was the A/V forensics lab. They analyzed the background noise on the recording and were able to determine that it was made at a marina. Trina ran the records and found a warehouse owned by Caine's uncle at Columbus Island. She's sending me the address now."

"I'm coming with you," she said in a tone that brooked no argument, but as usual that didn't stop him.

Booth shook his head. "It's too dangerous. I need to concentrate on getting our son out of there safely. I can't do that if I'm worried about you—"

"If you try to leave me behind, I'll just follow you," she said stubbornly, folding her arms and glaring at him.

He stared at her, furious at her bullheaded refusal to allow him to do his job. His cell vibrated in his hand as the text message with the address came in and the decision was made. "Fine. But you stay back, out of the line of fire. I've got enough on my mind without you complicating things."

She gave him a grim smile. "If you think I'm waiting in the car, think again."

"We'll discuss it on the way," he muttered, opening the door and leading the way back to the SUV. She waited until they were on the road.

"Booth, I'm coming with you," she said firmly, staring at his profile. She could tell he was grinding his teeth because a muscle was jumping in his cheek. "I mean it. There's no way I'm going to stay in the car."

They pulled up at a red light. "Give me your gun," he said between his teeth. He still hadn't looked at her. Opening her bag, she pulled out her gun and handed it to him hesitantly. Checking the safety, he leaned forward to shove the gun far under his seat.

"Hey! Give me that!" she demanded hotly.

"If you insist on coming along, you're not going to be armed. There's going to be a whole slew of armed agents there. You will stay _back_ and you will do _what_ you're told the minute I tell you with _no_ argument. Got it? Or do I have to handcuff you to the steering wheel?" he asked tightly.

She folded her arms and glared at him. "I'm an expert shot. Why can't I have my gun?"

Booth sighed. "You're not field trained," he said as patiently as he could. "It isn't enough to be a good shot, you need to know how to approach a scene in tandem with others so that nobody gets accidentally shot. The warehouse will already be surrounded when we get there. It's going to be hard enough to get them to accept my presence, much less get them to allow me to participate. You showing up with a gun is just going to make things worse."

Brennan sighed and relaxed a bit, disarmed by his honesty. "Fine, but I'm _not_ staying in the car." He threw her a grateful look. "When this is over, do you think you could give me some field training?" she couldn't help but ask.

He rolled his eyes and an unwilling smile kicked up a corner of his mouth. "We'll talk about that later."

Booth parked a block away from the warehouse. "We have to go on foot from here," he whispered, cutting the lights and engine.

"Okay," she replied. "Why are we whispering?"

"In case…" he began, then glanced at her. A smile was tugging at her lips. "Just follow my lead and stay down," he said, slightly louder.

Moving quickly and quietly, they moved in on the warehouse. They encountered their first agent a hundred yards from the warehouse, crouched behind a parked car. Fortunately he recognized Booth before anyone got hurt.

"Booth! You shouldn't be here!" Agent Baxter hissed.

"I know. Arrest me later. Where's Richards?"

Baxter jerked his chin to the right. "Over by that van. Man, he's gonna be pissed when he sees you," the agent warned, then he saw Brennan. "Oh, man, you're really pushin' your luck! You wanna get fired?"

Booth sighed. "Let me worry about that. I gotta talk to Richards." He glanced at Brennan. "Sure you don't wanna stay here with Baxter?" he asked, because he wouldn't be Booth if he didn't try one last time. She pursed her lips angrily, but that was enough to tell him that she hadn't been miraculously cured of her stubbornness in the last few minutes. "Stay—"

"Back, I know," she interrupted impatiently.

Giving her a final admonishing look, Booth led the way to the van where the agent in charge was hiding with a few others.

Richards was talking low into his com unit when they approached. His face was grim as he switched it off. "I was wondering when you'd show up. I don't need to tell you you're gonna be in deep shit. Wouldn't wanna be you when Cullen hears about this." He noticed Brennan behind Booth. "But did you have to bring her?" he asked wearily.

"Not like I had a choice," Booth muttered. "What's the situation?"

"Thermal imaging picked up six targets in the southeast corner of the building. Blueprints tell us it's a suite of offices. No way to tell if one of the blips is your boy, but we're going in anyway."

Booth took the Kevlar vest another agent named Johnson handed him. "When?" he asked as he strapped it on.

"Where's my vest?" Brennan interrupted. Johnson and Richards looked at each other dubiously, then turned to look at Booth.

Booth didn't even look at her. "Give her one, Johnson. Unless you wanna handcuff her to the car, she's coming too. If you ask me, it would be better if she stayed out of this, but I've already lost that argument." The agent hesitantly handed her a vest too. Hiding a victorious smile, she removed her coat and started strapping it on.

Shaking his head, Richards sighed. "The offices have one exterior door. There are already two agents covering it. Two groups of two agents each will approach from opposite ends of the warehouse, secure the interior exits, then we'll all go in at the same time."

"What's to stop them from killing my son?" Booth asked with a crack in his voice. Brannan reached out and squeezed his hand.

"We're hoping to grab the boy in the ensuing confusion—" Richards began.

"Hoping?" Booth cut in angrily. "You're playing pretty fast and loose with my son's life, Richards."

"I have an idea," Brennan said to cut off any further argument. The men all looked at her with varying degrees of surprise and curiosity. "I'll knock on the door and tell them my car is broken down and I need to use a phone."

"No! No way! It's too dangerous," Booth said.

"They don't know me, Booth. While they're distracted with me, the agents on the interior doors can come in and secure Russ. I'll dive for cover as soon as they bust in." They looked at her and then each other, but nobody dismissed the idea out of hand. Richards was the first to speak.

"It's a good idea," he said, earning a glare from Booth. "Well, better than the one we had," he argued. "Look, I've got two agents on the exterior door, they'll make sure she doesn't get hurt."

Booth shook his head. This had the makings of a huge disaster, but Richards was right. It was the best they could do under the circumstances. Brennan was buttoning her coat over the vest. He stepped close on the pretext of helping her. "My gut's telling me this is gonna go badly," he murmured. She looked up into his eyes, startled to find the sheen of tears there. "Please be careful," he said softly.

"Don't worry, your gut isn't always right," she teased. He frowned at her lame attempt at humor. "I'll be fine, Booth," she whispered. "I love you."

Booth was too choked up to reply, but she saw it in his eyes.

Richards was talking low into the com unit, updating the teams on the new plan. Booth took several deep, calming breaths, trying to accept the idea that his wife was risking her life to save their son. He didn't even want to consider what he'd do if anything happened to either of them.

"Okay, we're set. Ready, Dr. Brennan?" Richards asked. She nodded, tugging at the hem of her coat and straightening her spine. It took all of Booth's self control not to grab her and run away from here, back home where he could keep her safe. This really was the best way to do it. Maybe if he told himself that enough times, he'd start believing it.

Brennan shivered a bit in the cold as she waited for them to answer the door. She felt very conspicuous standing in the glaring light of the fixture above the door. What was taking them so long? she wondered, trying to stay calm. Suddenly the door opened a crack and a bloodshot eye peered at her.

"Yeah?" came a guttural voice.

"Um, my car broke down and my cell's dead, so I was wondering—"

"Who the fuck is it?" came another gruff voice and she could hear footsteps approaching. That's two.

Brennan was able to muster a few tears by thinking of her little boy in the clutches of these terrible men. "Please, can I use your phone? My car—"

"Dammit, Jay, tell whoever the fuck it is to get lost," came a third voice and more footsteps approached. That's three.

"It's a chick, says she needs a phone 'cuz her car broke down," said the first guy as he looked her up and down. She turned her shudder of revulsion into a shiver against the cold. The door opened wider and now all three were staring at her with suspicion.

Just then there was a huge crash from the rooms behind them and Brennan dove to her right, rolling to a crouch behind some barrels stacked against the building. Shouting erupted and the door slammed. Brennan's heart stopped as gunfire broke out inside, and then there was utter silence. She wanted to jump up and run inside, but she had promised to stay put until Booth told her it was safe. Trembling, as much from fear for her son and husband as from the cold, she stayed hunched in the shadows, waiting.

Her legs started to shake so she leaned her back against the wall, straining to hear something, anything, that might give her a clue what was going on. She could see shadowy figures racing toward the building, and still she stayed hidden. 'This is why I rush into things,' she thought resentfully. 'At least if I'm in the thick of it I don't have to sit around wondering what the hell is going on and worrying that Booth might be hurt.' But if she stayed safely hidden he didn't need to look to her safety and could concentrate on their son.

And therein lay the reason Booth didn't like it when she rushed in alongside him. Her presence gave him one more thing to worry about, a distraction that could prove disastrous, even fatal. Never mind that she was a strong, capable woman, she was _his_ woman and he could no more stop worrying about her safety than he could stop breathing. It was knit into his very being and was one of the reasons she loved him. Loving him, being in a committed relationship with him, she realized required certain compromises. She had accepted that years ago and had been making compromises over the past decade or so. But this was one compromise that she'd been resisting with every fiber of her feminist being, thinking if she gave in on this point she would be giving up her independence.

The truth was, staying safe was actually as much to his benefit as it was to her own. She knew he felt responsible for her safety and if anything were to happen to her in the field, she knew he would blame himself. No amount of logic or excuses would remove the guilt he would carry for the rest of his life. She decided right then and there to be more cautious from now on. It was the most loving thing she could do.

Footsteps were approaching her hiding place and she shrank against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. "It's okay, bub, she's over here waiting for us. At least she should be if she did what I told her," came Booth's voice. Brennan stood and smiled as her men approached. Booth was carrying Russ, who was a few years and several pounds past being carried, but wasn't protesting as he clung to his daddy for dear life.

"Of course I'm here. Didn't I say I would be?" she asked indignantly with a catch in her voice. And then she moved to meet them and threw her arms around both of them, allowing the tears she'd been holding in to fall. They stood that way for a long time, shaking with relief as they assured themselves they were alright.

**A/N: I've already got the next chapter begun, hope to post tomorrow. Now please click the little 'GO' button, you know you wanna!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**A/N: I can't believe it's been three months! I am SO sorry. I have never left a story hanging for so long before. My only excuse is I have had zero inspiration for this story. I hope I haven't lost all of my readers. Anyway, hopefully this chapter will be worth the wait and I will do my best to have the next one soon. I hope you like! Please review and let me know.**

Chapter 15

"Mom?" Russ asked from where he sat at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. It was early Sunday morning and Booth was still sleeping.

Brennan looked up absently from the newspaper. "Yes?"

"How do women get pregnant?" he asked, studying his cereal with a frown between his brows.

Her eyes went wide. "Didn't your dad--?" she asked desperately.

He rolled his eyes. "I asked him and he just…he said I'm too young—"

Brennan groaned inwardly. _Would the man ever get over his aversion to discussing sex?_ she wondered, frustrated. "Maybe he's right. I mean, you're only twelve—"

"Almost thirteen!" he protested.

"Well, didn't you take sex education—"

Another eye roll. "Right, like that told me anything useful. I mean, I understand the functions of the reproductive organs, but what I don't understand is how it all _works_—" he said, trailing off as he realized his mother—the empirical scientist, the most practical woman he knew—was blushing!

"Russ, I don't think I'm the one to discuss this with you…you really need a man to guide you," she said. She knew what he was getting at, she just didn't think she could answer his questions satisfactorily. He didn't want the clinical explanation she could give him. She wasn't any good at this—she would only mess it up. Her son was frowning at his spoon.

"Tell you what, I will talk to your dad." His eyes bounced up to lock with hers and she tried to smile reassuringly. "He really is the best person to talk to about this, Russ. Trust me."

He sighed and went back to eating. "Fine. Just tell him to hurry up. I need to know before I get married."

It was her turn to frown. "Married? Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

A smile kicked up a corner of his mouth and Brennan was startled by how much he looked like Booth. "Don't worry, Mom. I don't plan on getting married for a long time. But you know Dad…he tends to avoid uncomfortable subjects. I may have grandkids by the time he gets up the nerve."

She smiled, her relief almost tangible.

Parker and Russ went to the movies that afternoon, leaving Booth and Brennan alone. He was watching a football game while she tried to concentrate on an article in a forensics journal.

"Go, go, go!" Booth shouted as one of the players started a run for the end zone with the football tucked in his arms. "Nooooooo!" he yelled as the guy was tackled at the twenty yard line. A commercial came on and Brennan picked up the remote and muted the TV. "Hey!" he protested, turning to frown at her.

"We need to talk," she said, laying the journal aside.

Booth dropped his head against the back of the couch. "Now?" he asked with a groan. "C'mon! There's three minutes left in the game."

She raised a brow at him. "Three minutes could drag on for thirty and we need to talk before the boys get home."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. What is it?"

"You need to talk to Russ about sex," she said bluntly.

He straightened. Now she had his full attention. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. He just asked me about it this morning."

"What did you tell him?"

She gave him a withering glance. "I _said_ I would talk to _you_."

"Why? You know as much about sex—maybe more—as I do."

"Booth, he doesn't need a clinical explanation. He knows the physiological functions of the reproductive system. What he needs is—" she stopped, at a loss how to explain what their son's sex education lacked.

Booth raised his brows and tilted his head, trying to understand. It wasn't often his wife was at a loss for words, but he wasn't sure what she was getting at.

She sighed in frustration. "Why don't you just talk to him—let him ask you some questions—"

"Oh, no…that's a bad idea," Booth muttered. Then his eyes cut to the TV. The game was back on, so if he wanted to see the rest of it in peace, he'd have to agree. "Fine. I'll talk to him. Now, can I have the remote?" he asked.

She held it hostage for a long minute, staring at him with one brow raised. Finally she handed it to him with a warning. "Just so you know, he told me to tell you to hurry. He needs to know before he gets married." With that she got up to go to the kitchen.

"Married?" Booth said, sitting up and staring after her, the game forgotten. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Booth's chance came the following Saturday while Brennan was at the lab. She had given him a meaningful stare before she left, and he knew what _that_ meant.

He and Russ were playing catch in the backyard. They took a break to get some ice water and Booth took a deep, fortifying breath before diving in.

"Your mother told me you asked her about sex," he said before his courage failed him. They were sitting at the table on the patio, sipping their drinks and enjoying the soft breeze.

His son colored a little. "Yeah, well, it's a little easier to ask her…" he said by way of an excuse.

"But she didn't answer your question, did she?" Booth pointed out.

"No…she, uh, she said you were the one I should talk to," Russ said, staring at the condensation gathering on his glass.

"Russ," Booth said, waiting for his son to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry I gave you the impression you couldn't talk to me. I want you to know there is nothing you can't ask me."

Russ swallowed hard. "You won't get embarrassed?"

Booth chuckled. "I didn't say that." Russ gave him a quizzical look. "It isn't easy, talking to you about…sex. I mean, it's a very private subject. But I'll try not to let my embarrassment stop me from answering your questions as honestly as I can. Deal?"

Russ nodded thoughtfully. "Okay." He looked away for a long moment. He had always been a deep thinker. Booth knew he got that from his mother. He tried to brace himself for some very probing questions.

"How do you know if a girl likes you?" Russ finally asked.

Phew! An easy one to start with. Booth kept a straight face, trying to give the question serious consideration. "Well, let's see. If she looks at you a lot, I'd say that would tell you she's interested. Also, if she hangs around all the time, and makes excuses to be with you, that's a pretty strong indicator. Why? Is there a girl--?"

Russ flushed and glanced away. "Ginny Portman…she keeps _staring_ at me, and when I look at her she giggles and looks away. So I look away, but when I look at her again, she's staring again."

Booth smiled. Ah, puppy love. He remembered those times well. "Maybe next time she stares at you, you should go over and talk to her. Assuming of course you're interested?"

Russ smiled shyly. "She's pretty. And really, really smart."

'_That's my boy,'_ Booth thought proudly. _'Go for the pretty _and_ smart ones."_

"Dad?" Russ asked. His serious tone should have warned Booth, but he wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah?"

"Can a girl get pregnant by French kissing a guy?"

'_Whoah,'_ Booth thought, _'so much for puppy love.'_ He was tempted to tell him 'yes' just to put off any shenanigans for a few more years. But he _had_ promised to be honest. He took a deep breath. "No…why?"

Puzzled look. "Tommy said his older sister, Kate, French kissed a boy and now she's gonna have a baby. But that doesn't make sense, 'cuz in sex ed they explained how the sperm fertilizes the egg, and since the sperm comes from the—"

"Whoah, okay, hold on," Booth interrupted. "Are you sure you need to know this much? I mean, you're only twelve."

Russ rolled his eyes and groaned. "Almost thirteen! C'mon Dad! You promised you'd answer my questions."

Booth tried to remember what he had told Parker all those years ago, but the memory was so dim. He didn't think it had been this hard. His wife was gonna owe him BIG time for this! Straightening in his seat, he forced himself to meet his son's eyes seriously. In a matter-of-fact voice, he proceeded to explain how women got pregnant. Russ' eyes got wide and his mouth went slack with shock. When he was done, Booth sat back and watched his son process everything he had told him.

"Get out!" Russ finally said, completely shocked. "Wait'll I tell Tommy!"

Booth sat up again. "Wait, you can't tell him," he said quickly. He could imagine the phone call he'd get from Tommy's mother if his son passed along everything he had told his son.

"But Dad! He needs to know he's wrong!"

Booth firmed his lips. "It's not your place to tell him, Russ. Besides, this was a private conversation we had here, man to man, father to son. Do you think it would be appropriate to share it with someone else?" he asked, appealing to his son's logical side.

Russ sighed. "I guess not. But it isn't gonna be easy to resist correcting him. Mom would say a good friend wouldn't let him continue under a misconception like that—"

"Trust me, I know your mother would agree with me on this," Booth said firmly. He resolved to talk to her right away to make sure she did. He didn't need his son asking her and getting the wrong answer.

"You don't have to get married first, do you?" Russ asked.

Just when he thought the hard part was done, his son came up with the hardest question of all. Again Booth wanted to lie, just a little fib, to forestall any future problems. But his son was watching him so trustingly, he couldn't do it.

"No, son, you don't. But it's better if you do," he said. Russ continued to look at him solemnly. "Look, you know I never married Parker's mom?" Russ nodded and Booth went on. "And you know I share custody with Rebecca?" Another nod. "Well, don't you think it would have been easier on everyone, especially Parker, if we had been married?"

Russ frowned. "But Dad, if you were married to her, you couldn't have married Mom and had me!"

His dad sighed. Count on Temperance Brennan's son to point out the flaw in his logic. "That's true. I'm just using that as an example."

"So, do you wish you were married to Parker's mom?"

Booth shook his head. "At the time I wanted to marry her. But after awhile I was glad she said no." He watched his son's face carefully, hoping he would understand. "I love your mother, Russ. Marrying her was the best day of my life."

His son smiled, relieved and so was his dad, but Russ had another question.

"Do I have to French kiss? Can't I just kiss her with my mouth closed? 'Cuz it just looks…nasty," Russ said with a shudder.

Booth chuckled. "Give it a few years, son. I think you'll change your mind about that."

Russ frowned. "I dunno, Dad. What if she tastes bad? Like if she ate onions or something nasty like that? Besides, I don't think I want her germs. Mom says the mouth has loads of bacteria and germs."

His dad laughed. "I'll have to remind her about that next time she wants to kiss me." Russ rolled his eyes and looked away, embarrassed at the thought of his mom and dad kissing like that. Not that they had ever hesitated to show affection in front of him, but he always turned away when they did. There was just something _weird_ about seeing your parents doing that kind of thing.

"Dad?"

Booth tried to keep the dread out of his voice. Surely he didn't have more questions? "Yeah Russ?"

"Thanks for not talking to me like I'm a little kid. I hate that," Russ said.

Booth grinned. "Sure, buddy." He stood up and picked up his glove. "Ready?"

Russ grabbed his glove and jumped up. "Yeah."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Brennan was headed for Booth's office, more than a little irritated with her partner. She had waited for him at the diner for over an hour. Calling his cell had been useless and so here she was, intent on finding out what he was up to. The people she passed looked at her strangely, but she didn't have time to wonder why. Agent Phillips caught up to her at Booth's door.

"He's not here," he said as she raised her hand to knock. She looked at him with her brows raised. "He had a two hour meeting with Simmons and then he went into his office for a minute. When he came out he had his gun strapped on and he…left." He considered for a moment and went on. "He was very…agitated."

"Really? Did he say why?" she responded thoughtfully.

"I…didn't ask. And he didn't say where he was going—" Phillips said, but she cut him off.

"I know where he went," she said, suddenly concerned. "Thanks, Agent Phillips." With that she left. Phillips stared after her, then shook his head and went back to his own office. If anyone could deal with him, it would be Dr. Brennan. Nobody else had dared.

She approached him carefully. His face was grim and a muscle was jumping in his jaw as he aimed at the target. She waited patiently for him to finish, then stepped forward as he pulled off his ear protection and pushed the button to reel the target in. The shots were clustered at the center and there were a couple head shots.

"I see you haven't lost your touch," she said huskily, stopping beside him. He picked up his gun to put in a new clip.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without looking at her.

"You stood up to me," she said, deliberately getting the colloquialism wrong. The fact that he didn't correct her was an indication of how agitated he was. He darted a look at her, then closed his eyes as he remembered.

"Damn! We had a lunch date, didn't we?"

She leaned a shoulder against the wall of the stall. "I waited for over an hour and you didn't answer your cell—"

"I shut it off," he said. "I'm sorry, Bones. I just…I was in a meeting with Simmons and when it was over, I didn't wanna talk to anyone. I shoulda called you."

"Damn right, you shoulda," she said, mimicking him, trying to get a rise out of him. When he didn't respond her curiosity was peaked. "What happened?"

He put the gun down and turned to lean his hips against the counter, folding his arms. "Simmons offered me a promotion." His words said good news, but his tone said otherwise.

"Promotion? Why aren't you happy about that?"

"Because they want to put me behind a desk," he said grimly.

She was beginning to understand why he was mad. "Well, they can't make you take it, can they?" she asked.

He blew out a breath of frustration. "I don't know, maybe. Simmons thinks I'm too old for field work."

It was her turn to fold her arms. "You're only fifty! And you're in better physical condition than most of the agents half your age!"

That brought a smile. "Thanks."

"Well, it's the truth. You're going to fight this, aren't you?" she asked.

"I want to," he said solemnly. "I know it's an honor. It would mean a decent pay hike and I wouldn't have to work as many hours."

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Both, I guess. It just doesn't feel right. Not yet."

She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his strong forearms. "Then fight it." He stared at her doubtfully. "I'll help, any way I can," she said.

"What can you do? I don't think kicking Simmons' ass is gonna do any good," he said with a glimmer of a smile. Somehow the fact that she was on his side made the situation less frustrating.

She smiled slyly. "I've got connections," she said mysteriously. "Why don't you turn it down and see what happens. There is no point in me bringing in the big rifles if I don't need to," she said. This time he took the bait.

"Big guns, Bones," he corrected with a quirk of his lips. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

She smiled innocently. "Why would I do that?"

"Trying to cheer me up," he said, pulling her into his arms.

Her brows rose. "Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't make myself look foolish just to cheer you up."

He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Liar," he accused, and then leaned in for a deeper kiss. She tilted her head and opened her lips, thrilling to the feel of him against her. Even after all these years he could still turn her brain to mush and make her weak in the knees.

Booth presented himself at Charles Simmons office early the next morning, determined to make his position clear. His knock elicited a loud 'Come in' and he opened the door and went to stand in front of his superior's desk.

"What is it, Booth?" Simmons hadn't looked up yet and Booth felt the anger from yesterday start to surge up in him again. Then he pictured his wife and focused on remaining calm.

"I wanted to give you my answer regarding your offer yesterday, sir."

Simmons' eyes darted up to meet his. "Have a seat, Agent Booth."

Booth clasped his hands behind his back. "No thank you, Sir. I'll only be a minute." He took a calming deep breath. "My wife and I discussed it, and we decided…I can't accept the promotion at this time."

Simmons frowned. "Do you realize I will have to give the job to someone else? If you change your mind, it'll be too late, and there's no telling when another opening will become available."

"I realize that, sir. I'm willing to take that chance."

Simmons folded his hands on his blotter and studied Booth closely. "Care to explain your reasoning?"

"It's too soon, sir. I figure I still have a good five to seven years left in me—"

"Do you want to wait until physical limitations force you to retire from the field? Wouldn't you rather go out at the top of your game?"

Booth gritted his teeth against a surge of temper. When he spoke, his voice was clipped. "We have the best solve rate in the division. I want to continue as long as we keep getting the bad guys. Why is that a problem?"

"Your solve rate is largely due to your partner's expertise. I'm sure we could find a capable agent to take over for you."

Booth flexed his fists behind his back. "Did Cullen ever tell you what happened when he split us up? It was a disaster."

"Yeah, I heard. But that was fifteen years ago. Circumstances are different now—"

"She's with me," Booth cut in. "If I retire from the field, she will too."

Simmons sighed and shook his head. "Fine. It's your career. But don't come crying to me later and expect the offer to still be open," he warned. He studied Booth for a long moment. "Well? Was there something else?"

"No, sir," Booth responded, relaxing his stance. He turned and headed for the door, stopping with his hand on the knob to look back. His superior's head was bent over a file once more and Booth knew he had been dismissed. He left, relieved that he had dodged the bullet. This time.

He paused in the open doorway and watched her typing away at her computer. He shouldn't have come. He knew she didn't like dealing with their personal relationship at work, but he couldn't help it. He had been drawn here against his will. Quietly closing the door behind him, he closed the blinds. She turned to look at him with surprise.

"Booth? What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled by his manner. He didn't answer her as he approached the desk, his gaze holding hers solemnly. "What's wrong?" she asked, beginning to get alarmed.

He came around the desk and pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. She went willingly, sensing his need. His hands moved restlessly over her back, stroking her as though she was the one who was upset. She put her arms around him, clutching him close. He gave a long sigh and pulled back a bit to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I just needed…I needed to hold you."

"What happened?" she asked urgently.

"He talked about splitting us up," Booth said low.

"But he's not, is he? You talked him out of it, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. His eyes fluttered shut as she leaned up to kiss him gently. He opened them again to regard her somberly. "You know, it's just a matter of time. Five years, eight tops—" he said gravely.

"But not yet," she cut in firmly. "Let's not worry about it right now, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay." She kissed him again. "Hey," he said with a glimmer of a smile, "do you call this professional behavior?"

"My partner needed reassurance, which I gave him." She pulled back and straightened her clothes. "Just don't make a habit of it. My husband is a jealous man and he carries a gun," she teased.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said wryly. "So, I gotta go…see ya later?"

She sat back down at her desk. "Yeah, later," she replied, giving him a soft smile. Then she turned back to her computer and got back to work. Booth watched her for a moment, feeling balanced once more. His step was light as he left.

**A/N: Thanks for reading—hope you enjoyed it. Please click the little blue button and feed the muse.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**A/N: Okay, so this begins three years after the prior chapter and Russ is 17 years old. I hope you like it!**

Chapter 17

Brennan bent over the remains spread out on the stainless steel table. She was three hours into her examination and she was getting frustrated by the lack of forensic evidence. The fractured hyoid bone indicated death by strangling, but she hadn't found anything significant to indicate where the girl had been killed. The body had been dumped in a shallow grave at Rock Creek Park, discovered by a man walking his dog. The dog had taken off through the trees and when the man finally caught up to him he found the dog sniffing at a hand sticking up from the ground. Insect activity indicated the victim had been dead twenty-two days.

Angela spoke from where she was working on the victim's face. "She was pretty," she said softly, regret giving her voice an edge.

Brennan barely glanced at her friend. "That isn't helpful to the investigation, Ange. Focus on the victim's features. The sooner you can give her a face, the sooner we can identify her and catch her killer."

Angela sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could look at things as clinically as you do. It would be so much easier if I didn't empathize with the victim," she said as she continued to work.

"Then you wouldn't be the Angela we all know and love," Hodgins said, shooting her a sexy grin. She smiled back at him, then put down her pencil and turned the pad around for all to see.

"Meet Jane Doe," she announced.

Brennan glanced up and froze. The forceps slipped from her hand and landed on the table with a loud clatter. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Angela asked, looking back down at her sketch.

"Are you sure--?" Brennan asked hoarsely as she straightened.

Angela shrugged, frowning. "It's not an exact science, Bren."

Her friend pulled out her cell, her eyes still glued to the drawing. "How soon can you get to the lab?" she asked the person who answered. "I think we found Melissa Hardaway." She ended the call and took a deep shuddering breath. "Run it through missing persons," she said shakily.

Angela turned to her station and tapped something into the computer. Several long, tension-filled moments later a picture popped up. Angela gave Brennan a look of surprise. "Melissa Ann Hardaway, sixteen years old, reported missing over three weeks ago…student at Jefferson High…" Her eyes flew wide and she looked at her friend with shock. "Isn't that Russ' school?"

Brennan nodded slowly, her look grim. "He dated her for five months."

Angela's brows shot up. "Five months is a pretty long stretch for kids that age. What went wrong?"

Brennan folded her arms against a sudden chill. "I don't know. Russ wouldn't talk about it, but he was pretty upset. All he would say was she broke it off. Then she disappeared and everyone thought she had run away." She looked down at the remains. "I wonder what happened."

Booth came in just then, dashing up the stairs after pausing to swipe his card. "Bones, what's this about finding Melissa? Why aren't you working on our Jane Doe?"

"She _is_ our Jane Doe, Booth," his partner informed him.

That brought him up short. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Angela replied. When he looked her way, she pointed at the monitor which still displayed the missing persons report. He walked over to read the stats, frowning.

"But it's possible it isn't her, right? I mean, you've said before it isn't foolproof—" he said hopefully. Angela folded her arms and gave him a cocked brow look. Booth sighed. "Fine, it's her. How'd she die?" he asked his wife.

"The hyoid is fractured indicating strangulation."

"Do we know where she was killed yet?" he asked when it seemed she wasn't going to go on.

Hodgins spoke from his station. "The only particulates we could find were indigenous to the area she was found."

"Cam's running a tox screen on the soft tissue," Brennan said absently, staring at the remains without really seeing them.

Booth noticed his wife was rubbing her upper arms as though she was cold. "Bones," he said softly. She didn't reply and he moved to stand across from her. "Temperance," he said a little louder. She finally tore her eyes away from the victim to meet his concerned gaze. "Maybe Zack better take over," he suggested gently.

Her lips thinned angrily. "Why? Because I knew the victim?" His eyes didn't waver in the face of her temper. "This isn't the first time—"

"You seem to be taking this pretty hard—"

"Of course I am, Booth! A young girl was murdered and whoever did it is out there, going on like he didn't just take away another person's future."

"I'm just saying, if you can't work the case without getting emotional, you need to pass it to someone who can—"

"I'll be fine, Booth. It—it was a shock, but I can put that aside. I need to solve this, for my own peace of mind."

He put his hands on his hips, studying her closely. After a moment he nodded. "Okay." He watched as she bent over the remains to resume her examination. "How are we gonna break it to Russ?" he asked softly.

She glanced up at him, her mouth grim. "That's your department, Booth. Besides, I think he might take it better from you. I don't think he's going to like the idea of his mother examining his girlfriend's remains."

"Ex-girlfriend," he corrected automatically, his mind already trying to work out the right approach. He had had to inform friends and family about the death of loved ones hundreds of times over the course of his career, but all that experience hadn't prepared him for this. He glanced at his watch. "Russ should be home by now. I think I'll call it a day and go talk to him."

"Okay," she said, relieved that she wouldn't have to face her son until later. Maybe by the time she got home he will have calmed down. The thought made her feel like a coward.

Booth found his son at the kitchen table doing his homework. There was a stack of sandwiches at his elbow and a half empty glass of milk. He glanced at the textbook he had open. Calculus. Booth shuddered.

"Hi, Dad," Russ said around a mouthful of ham sandwich. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall and he frowned, swallowing hard. "Why are you home so early?"

Booth draped his suit coat over the back of a chair and loosened his tie, taking a seat at the table. "I need to talk to you."

A wary look came over his son's face. His dad had that look he got when he was in trouble, but tinged with something else. Taking a sip of milk, Russ racked his brain, trying to remember if he'd done anything lately that would have caused that look. Coming up empty, he cleared his throat. "About what?"

His dad was focused on unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. Russ waited, silent and unmoving, an interrogation tactic he had learned from his dad. Not that it really applied to the situation, but it worked anyway. Taking a deep breath and meeting Russ' eyes, Booth came to the point.

"They found Melissa," he said.

Hope blossomed only to be squashed by his dad's somber expression. "Where?" he asked hesitantly.

His dad folded his hands on the table. "Rock Creek Park. She's dead, son."

Russ' eyes went wide. "What? No, no way…she ran away…they said she ran away," he said desperately.

His dad's head was shaking no, his eyes were dead serious, but Russ didn't want to believe it. His dad went on. "The squints made a positive ID this afternoon. They think she's been dead three weeks."

"Killed?" he croaked.

"Strangled." The word was said softly, but it drove the truth home in a very final way.

Russ closed his eyes and dropped his head forward. Tears came and he let them fall, unashamed. His dad had taught him they weren't a sign of weakness. He was glad he didn't have to try to hold them in or hide them. Under the circumstances, he didn't know if he could have.

Melissa had been his first real girlfriend. He had dated several girls, none of them more than a few times, until he met her. He had fallen hard, so when she suddenly broke it off for no apparent reason nearly a month and a half ago, he had been devastated. The week after she broke up with him he called her repeatedly, went to her house, and cornered her at school, trying to get her to tell him why. After five months of dating, he thought he deserved an explanation. She had stonewalled him at every turn.

Finally, desperate for answers, he pulled her best friend, Tracy, aside at the library.

"I can't tell you, Russ," she said sympathetically. "She made me promise."

"Can you at least tell me—was it something I did?" he asked, hating the need to ask.

She glanced around the quiet library, then turned to him, satisfied that they were alone. "All I can say is, she wants you to stay away from her, for your own good."

"My own good? Did someone threaten her?" he asked urgently.

Tracy shook her head. "I don't know, Russ. I can't tell you any more. Just please, drop it, okay?"

Russ didn't reply, unwilling to make a promise he might not keep. He watched Tracy gather her books and turn to walk away. She glanced back just before she went out the door and Russ could have sworn she looked frightened.

Less than a week later Melissa had disappeared.

Booth looked away, giving his son a modicum of privacy to come to terms with his loss. He waited patiently and a few minutes later when the sounds of grief had lessened, he snuck a look at him. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it over, studying his hands, loosely clasped on the table, until he felt his son might be ready for the question he had to ask. His answer would determine whether they would have to give the case to someone else.

He cleared his throat. "Russ, I have to ask…" he began. His son's watery eyes met his. "When did you last see her?"

The boy swallowed and blinked, trying to focus on the question. His breath caught as he realized why his dad had asked him that. "You think I did it?" he asked incredulously.

"No, of course not! God, where did that come from?" Booth said, standing and pacing to the far end of the table. He gave his son a stunned look.

"Then why--?" Russ asked.

"I'm just doing my job, son. I have to ask every close acquaintance of the victim that question. It isn't an accusation…it's the best way to get a timeline of the victim's final days," he explained patiently.

"Stop calling her that! Her name's Melissa!" Russ said in a ragged voice.

Booth came back to sit by his son. "I'm sorry, Russ, it's just a habit, a way of dealing…" Russ glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. "How do you think your mother and I handle our jobs, seeing the worst things people do to each other? By calling them 'the victim' and creating an emotional distance. If we didn't do that, we wouldn't have lasted this long in our line of work." Russ swiped at his nose with the hankie again. "You didn't answer the question," Booth reminded him gently. "Do you remember when you saw her the last time?"

Russ looked him in the eye steadily. "Of course I do, Dad. I'll never forget, because she disappeared the next day."

**A/N II: dun-dun-dun! How's that for a cliffie? Hehe, I know, I'm mean, but I really feel like everyone has become a bit blasé about this fic and musie had a hankerin' for some angst. I should have the next chap posted by next weekend. Now, click the little blue button and feed the muse so she will get busy!**


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